


Prophecy Boy

by bakedgoldfish



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Doctor Who, Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, The West Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-20
Updated: 2006-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-15 05:49:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14784680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bakedgoldfish/pseuds/bakedgoldfish
Summary: Where is Mandy Hampton? A West Wing/Good Omens/Buffy/Dr. Who Crossover.





	1. Prophecy Boy

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**Prophecy Boy**

**by: Baked Goldfish**

**Character(s):** Sam, Leo, Mandy  
**Category(s):** Crossover/AU  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Disclaimer:** The West Wing is NBC's. Buffy The Vampire Slayer is Fox's. Doctor Who is, um, someone's, possibly the BBC's. Good Omens is Terry Pratchett's and Neil Gaiman's. None of this is mine, I'm not making any money on this, please don't sue me.  
**Summary:** Where is Mandy Hampton? A West Wing/Good Omens/Buffy/Dr. Who Crossover.  
**Spoiler:** For TWW: Up through Red Haven's On Fire (season four). For Buffy & Angel: Just before Lies My Parents Told Me (season seven). For Doctor Who: dude, that show's been over for ten years. That doesn't count. For Good Omens: after the end of the book, but no real spoilers are given.  
**Author's Note:** So, after Red Haven's On Fire, I had some questions. About Sam, about his place in the administration, about lots of other things. Before Lies My Parent's Told Me, I had other, unrelated questions. Mostly about Giles, and his role in that episode. After season one of The West Wing, I, like many other TWW fans, had questions about the whereabouts of Mandy Hampton. This story is my attempt to answer my own questions. It takes place in Sunnydale, right before the events of Lies My Parents Told Me and right after the events of Red Haven's On Fire. It started out as a story just about Sam, and got way, way out of hand. So... there it is, I suppose. 

He drove north. 

There wasn't anything in Orange County for him, not that he knew of at any rate, so when the election was over and everything was said and done and he'd gone on the requisite number of walk-of-shame post-voting interviews, he packed his stuff in the rental Saturn, and hopped onto the highway and drove north.  He’d heard the strangest rumors about L.A., and it had been a while since he’d been there, so he supposed he could take a vacation before heading back to Washington. He could spend a few days there, and nobody would say anything to him because, hey, how do you chide a guy who's just lost such a newsworthy election? 

So Sam Seaborn, Senior Counsel to the President of the United States of America, and failed Congressional candidate for California's 47th district, drove past the sign that thanked him for visiting Orange County and did hope he would return for another enjoyable visit in the future, and headed towards Los Angeles. 

[-----] 

In a small cabin in Lower Tadfield, nobody really cared that Sam Seaborn had lost the California 47th.  This mostly had to do with the fact that, while the election results had made national news in the United States, Lower Tadfield neither had nor wanted anything to do with that side of the Atlantic. 

In that cabin, Newton Pulsifer and Anathema Device were cleaning up.  It had been a while since they'd done a good cleaning up, and the things that had accumulated in corners and cupboards were threatening to come to life. 

So they were making heaps of trash all around them, tossing all sorts of strange things about, deciding what to keep and what to throw out, when Newton saw a box.  It looked vaguely familiar, all box-like and brown with sharp edges and twine wrapping it shut, and so he opened it, curious. 

He stared at its contents for a second, and then asked: "Dear heart?  Why do we still have this?" 

[-----] 

About half of the way to L.A., Sam decided the silence was too much.  The radio didn't seem to work, so he glanced around the front seats.  A tape lay discarded on the floor of the passenger side, and, keeping his eyes on the road, he picked it up and glanced at the label.  Dvorak, possibly left there by the previous renter.  He stuck it in the tape deck. 

"-Little high, little low, any way the wind blows doesn't really matter to me-" 

That was in no shape, way, or form, Dvorak.  He popped the tape out again, and figured the silence was better, now that he thought about it. 

About three-quarters of the way to L.A., the sun began to set on Sam.  But when it suddenly and completely disappeared when he reached the city limits, he knew there was something just a little bit fishy going on; the streets looked almost completely deserted, save for a few badly dressed folks brooding in the shadows here and there.  Looking around from the safety of his car, he thought perhaps it would be a good idea to just head right on back to Orange County, and catch a plane back to D.C. 

Now, of course this was the time his car chose to break down in the middle of the pot-holed street.  And as he sat nervously in his car, Sam noticed, in front of the vehicle, a pair of yellow eyes staring directly at him. 

[-----] 

The Doctor's TARDIS cared even less about the outcome of Sam Seaborn's election than anyone in Lower Tadfield, but by the way it was acting up, one could easily have mistaken the TARDIS for a disgruntled Orange County Democrat. 

Ace leaned against the control tower as the Doctor did... something on the other side.  "How long is this gonna take?" she asked - not really miffed or anything, just bored enough to resort to that kind of questioning. 

"As long as it takes," the Doctor replied, bustling as he tried to fix whatever was wrong.  "Don't worry, Ace, we'll be there soon enough." 

Ace quickly stepped out of the way as he reached for something on her side of the tower.  "But where's 'there' this time, Professor?" 

"There's there," he said, and the TARDIS shuddered ominously before the familiar wail started as it landed.  "Or, rather, here."  He opened the viewscreen and looked at their surroundings. 

Ace frowned and cocked her head at the sight.  "From the looks of it, 'here' isn't the resort town on Karikos you wanted to go to, is it?" 

The Doctor stared at the deserted, darkening street that stretched out beyond the TARDIS door.  "I daresay it isn't." 

[-----] 

"Okay," Sam sighed, unbuckling his seat belt.  As he opened his door, he wondered if those yellow eyes that stared at him like he was so much meat were contacts or surgical implants of some sort.  At any rate, he made a note not to get them for himself. 

Popping the hood, he tucked his half-loose tie into his shirt and walked to the front of the car as if he knew what the hell he would be looking for.  "You wouldn't happen to know anything about cars, would you?" he muttered.  When no one answered, he said under his breath, "Guess not." 

"Sorry man," came a voice from the darkness, a voice that didn't sound sorry at all.  "It's just, well, a lot of us never understood the use of cars.  Being born before they were invented and all that."  A man with a gnarled face and oddly vertical hair stepped out of the alley and strode towards Sam.  "They just get in the way." 

The part of Sam that wanted to say, "Eep!  You're a scary, scary man and I'm going to run away right now!" stayed mercifully quiet.  He instead asked, quite calmly, "Get in the way of what, exactly?" 

"Our food," he said, licking what looked to be a set of fangs in his mouth.  If Sam weren't so busy being paralyzed with fear, his knees might have knocked. 

"You can't eat him," a new, feminine, and very memorable voice said. Sam turned around and saw another deformed face in the shadows. He couldn't quite make out the details, but there was something just a little familiar there... 

[-----] 

Now, if one were to say, "The only reason people outside the California 47th do not care about Seaborn's campaign is that they're not from the California 47th themselves," one would be incorrect.  Because walking down the street in an average (looking) town smack-dab in the middle of the California 47th was a group of disinterested (looking) young adults who were part of his district, and they didn't care because, well, an apocalypse was due in a month or two, and that kind of put a damper on their patriotic voting spirits.  And, also, some of these youth weren't from his district, or even old enough to vote, and that too put a damper on their patriotic voting spirits. 

Xander rounded a corner, and saw an odd silhouette on the pavement a few feet away from the group.  It registered after a second what it was he was looking at.  "Uh, Buffy?" 

Buffy and the potential slayers that had come along for training had noticed the same thing he had, and were approaching it warily.  "Yeah?" 

"We're not all of a sudden British, are we?"  He poked its blue exterior with his axe. 

"Not unless Giles forgot to tell us something," Buffy muttered. 

"And only if we're in the fifties," Molly added.  "They blew those things up years ago, got rid of every last one."  These young people, with their stakes and swords and axes, had never seen a police call box in person. 

There's a first time for everything, one supposes. 

[-----] 

"I didn't mean to keep it," Anathema said, peering curiously at the book that was lying open on the ground.  "I just... forgot, really." 

Newt hesitated as he looked down at the same book.  These matters always got to him.  On the one hand, there was the whole prophecy thing - somewhere in that book, there might be a passage about how it was supposed to fall out of their closet on this day in particular.  They might end up having to pore over it for one reason or the other. 

On the other hand, maybe their having it, maybe Anathema's forgetting to get rid of it had already screwed the prophecy up.  Maybe they weren't supposed to have it at all.  He scratched the back of his neck.  "Well," he began very slowly, "what do you want to do with it now?" 

Anathema, having had the very same thoughts as Newton, regarded him almost, but not quite, nervously.  "There's that bookstore in London.  You know the one.  I think maybe that's the best place for it, yes?" 

Newton nodded vigorously.  If they were meant to have the book by the end of it all, it would make its way back to them one way or another. 

[-----] 

"Hang on, Ace," the Doctor said, peering at a dial that was going a little bit wacky.  Ace's hand hovered over the button that would open the door, and she watched as the Doctor tapped on the dial, peered at it again, and then brought the palm of his hand down on it.  "Hmm.  Not right at all." 

"What is it?" she asked. 

"A temporal-spatial flux.  Whenever the TARDIS travels, it slips through natural creases and folds in the space-time continuum.  The one we slipped through - rather, were pulled through - seems to be more amorphous than normal, and slightly ragged." 

She shook her head.  "That's all Greek to me." 

He looked at her with keen eyes and a serious face tainted with just a hint of eagerness.  "The fabric of time and space is strange here.  I'm not sure how, exactly - it could simply be weak, or it could be something completely different." 

"So, it's less a case that we came here accidentally, and more a case of we got... sucked in?" 

"Right.  There's something rotten," the Doctor intoned, "in the state of California." 

Ace very nearly rolled her eyes.  Then she saw the viewscreen, looked suitably alarmed, and cursed profusely. 

"Ace!"  The Doctor looked at her in shock at her language, and then followed her gaze.  In the middle of the street, in the dark, was a group of young adults being led by a little blonde woman with a big sword; and they were all staring at the TARDIS, their weapons very obviously poised to kill or maim anything that came out of it. 

"Oh," the Doctor said, eyes going almost comically wide.  "I agree." 

[-----] 

"I like to eat alone," the man with the funny hair growled. 

"Then eat somewhere else," the woman growled back.  "You know who this guy is?" 

Funny Hair managed to look disinterested, superior, and annoyed all at once.  Sam had never seen that look on anyone other than Toby and maybe Leo.  "Lunch?" he said, obviously peeved at the intrusion. 

"Actually, it's closer to dinnertime," Sam piped up. 

"Ah, damn," the man said, looking with detached annoyance at the sky.  "That's the one bad thing about no sun - you never know what time it is." 

"Hey, Angelus," the woman yelled.  "Don't be a dumbass.  Find something else to eat." 

Sam couldn't make out her face for the shadows and the lumps, but her voice - it sounded like, like... oh, hell no.  "Hang on," he mumbled. 

Angelus ignored him and glowered at her.  "Why haven't I killed you yet?" 

"Because of what I'm about to tell you," she said.  "This guy's deputy communications director at the White House.  You eat him, you're gonna have the entire 82nd Airborne on your ass." 

"Promises, promises," Angelus snarled.  He took one last look at Sam and muttered, "Democrats taste funny anyway," before vanishing into the night. 

Sam didn't quite notice, since he was too busy gaping at his savior.  "Mandy?" 

Mandy Hampton's face smoothed out, and her fangs disappeared as she smiled at him. 

"Hey, Sam.  Long time, no see, huh?" 


	2. Prophecy Boy 2

**Prophecy Boy**

**by: Baked Goldfish**

**Character(s):** Sam, Leo, Mandy  
**Category(s):** Crossover/AU  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Disclaimer:** The West Wing is NBC's. Buffy The Vampire Slayer is Fox's. Doctor Who is, um, someone's, possibly the BBC's. Good Omens is Terry Pratchett's and Neil Gaiman's. None of this is mine, I'm not making any money on this, please don't sue me.  
**Summary:** Where is Mandy Hampton? A West Wing/Good Omens/Buffy/Dr. Who Crossover.  


* * *

Anathema dumped the book on the table and regarded it as if it might explode at any moment.  "We'll take it in the morning." 

"Why not now?" Newt asked, almost petulant. 

She looked at him crossly.  "It's half past eleven." 

He shrugged, and said, "They always have funny hours.  And at any rate, I think it should be out of the house." 

Anathema looked at it, the title staring up at her almost mockingly, and wondered how she'd thought they'd gotten rid of it so many years ago.  "If we're lucky, it'll fly out of the car and dump itself in a creekbed on the way," she mumbled.  "What'll we do if we get there and the place is closed?  Maybe it says in the book.  Maybe it's prophesied." 

If she had bothered to open the book, which it had been prophesied she wouldn't, she would have known the bookstore in question would be open in order to service a particular gentleman who didn't really know the bookstore owner but was a semi-regular customer anyway.  Since neither she nor Newt knew that, though, he said, "Find a swank hotel with mirrors on the ceiling?" 

She shrugged and put on a coat; it wasn't as if their love life was dull or anything, but a change of scenery was always nice. 

The drive was shorter than normal, and they got to the shop precisely at midnight.  Much to their great joy and only their very slightest dismay, the light was on in the shop and the cardboard sign on the door was flipped to read, "Open."  Newt eased the door open and peered inside cautiously.  "Hello?" 

What sounded like nearly a crash came from the back of the musty shop, and the owner strode out to greet them with a smile.  "Yes?" 

Anathema squeezed past Newt and held the book out.  "We'd like to sell this." 

Aziraphale took one look at the title and immediately wanted to wrap his well-manicured hands all around it.  "Oh," he breathed.  "Oh my.  Er, how much?" 

Newt and Anathema looked at each other for a moment.  "You can figure that out, and send us the payment whenever you're ready," Anathema said as she handed the book to him. 

Aziraphale beamed and scurried off to the back with a faint but eager, "Thank you!" 

"Odd fellow," Newt muttered as they turned to leave.  He ran smack into a man coming in, and immediately felt the need to shrink back in terror at the very sight of him, even though the man looked quite befuddled and apologetic for having run into him like that.  "Oh.  Sorry." 

"No, it's my fault," he said with a small smile.  "Should've watched where I was going."  Anathema and Newt stepped past him, out into the street. 

"Is anybody here?" he called into the shop, peering around the bookshelves.  He could never understand how a shop with such a comprehensive selection of young boys' fiction could also house some of the best ancient and apocryphal resources outside of the now defunct Council libraries.  "I called ahead... " 

"I'm here," Aziraphale said.  He had been expecting him, but now that he had the previously unheard of sequel to Agnes Nutter's original Nife and Accurate Prophecies in his hands, he was loathe to serve any customer, no matter how much they might pay and how good a conversationalist they might be.  Unfortunately, in his haste to see to this man as quickly as possible, Aziraphale had forgotten to put the Prophecies down. 

He pulled a slip of paper out of his wallet, skimming it over one last time to make sure it was error free.  "I've got a list here."  When he looked up to hand the page to the shopkeeper, he saw the book.  "Is that-" 

Aziraphale nearly cringed as he realized he was still holding the thick volume.  "It's nothing, really." 

"That's Agnes Nutter's prophecies," Giles said with no small amount of awe. 

"Her second set, actually, first book was destroyed in a fire," Aziraphale said.  In response to the nearly predatory stare the book was getting, he added, "It's not for sale.  Private collection." 

Giles blinked, then nodded.  "O-of course.  Um, you said you had these books on the phone?"  He handed the list to Aziraphale, and almost pouted when he saw that Aziraphale had taken the Prophecies with him as he went to fetch Giles' texts. 

"Except," Giles began, when Aziraphale returned.  "Except, is there any way you could possibly loan it out?  Even for just a few days." 

Aziraphale looked hesitant, and Giles was quick to add, "I'll pay any fee.  A-and you know I'd look after it." 

It was true he'd loaned rare books out to Giles before, and it was true that Giles had always returned them in pristine condition - he was obviously as much a bibliophile as Aziraphale, if not more so when it came to certain books.  But this was the Further Nife and Accurate Prophecies.  And the angel hadn't even had the chance to look it over. 

But being an angel, he had to give the guy at least a chance, no matter how slim.  He made an offer, one he was sure Giles would never be able to meet. 

"Done," Giles said, pulling out his checkbook.  Aziraphale's smile became strained. 

[-----] 

"I swear to all that's good and holy, if I find out the Declaration of Independence has been rescinded-"  Xander sputtered to a stop as the blue doors opened. 

"I assure you, your America is still yours," the Doctor said, stepping onto the street.  He frowned as Ace stepped out behind him.  "Actually, I don't assure you.  Never can be sure of these things, really." 

"Huh," Buffy said warily.  "You guys out for a quickie in the-"  She stared at the TARDIS.  "The... uh, blue thing?" 

"Yeah, gotta say, big ol' police box just appearing out of nowhere, kinda suspicious," Amanda said. 

"Oh, and I bet you were just taking those weapons for cleaning?" Ace scoffed, her fingers flexing around her baseball bat. 

Buffy skeptically eyed the wood weapon.  "Actually, we were gonna kill bad things with them." 

"Oh.  We're not bad things," the Doctor said.  "You won't have to kill us." 

Amanda squinted into the distance.  "Uh, guys-" 

"And we know that how?" Buffy asked. 

"Guys-" 

"Our word," the Doctor replied boldly.  "And really, how do we know you're not evil?" 

"Guys," Amanda said loudly.  They turned to her.  "See that horde of vampires coming towards us?  I figure they're generally a good litmus test for evil, yeah?" 

Xander nodded.  "Generally speaking." 

"The TARDIS is big enough for everyone," the Doctor said as the group clustered together in defense against the vampires.  The others stared at him in confusion.  "TARDIS.  It means-" 

"'Time and relative dimensions in space,'" Xander said. 

Buffy frowned at him, confused.  "The huh?" 

Ace rolled her eyes.  "The blue thing we just came out of?" 

Buffy critically looked them over.  "That thing's not even big enough to shower in." 

Ace grabbed her arm and pulled her into the open door.  When they came out moments later, Buffy's eyes were wide. 

"Wow," she said in a very tiny voice. 

Xander stared at her, worried.  "Buff?" 

She turned to him.  "Wow." 

Amanda cast a nervous glance at the circling vampires.  "Um, Buffy?  Vamps?" 

She shook herself back to composure.  "Right.  Yeah.  No," she said calmly.  "We fight." 

Meanwhile, Xander was completely ignored by the group as he openly gaped at what had to be the craziest Doctor Who fans in the history of all time. 

[-----] 

"Oh," Sam said.  He stared at Mandy in the dim lamplight. 

Mandy stared back.  For a few seconds, she waited for him to stop staring; when he showed no signs of changing his expression, she jolted at him and said, "Boo!" 

Sam jumped back so hard he banged his knee against the car door.  "Mandy?" 

"Yes," she said, mock-patiently.  "Yes, Mandy.  Of the Hampton variety, even.  Look, you wanna get out of the streets?" 

"Huh?" 

"Before Mr. Big Bad comes back," Mandy said.  "He's gonna come back as soon as he realizes I just confused him out of dinner." 

Sam wondered when he was going to wake up.  "Um, the car doesn't work," he said lamely. 

Mandy rolled her eyes and smashed in the window of another nearby car.  "I think I can hotwire this one," she said, climbing in and trying to do just that.  The engine sparked to life, and she smiled triumphantly.  "So.  Let's go." 

Absently, Sam wondered if his face was going to stick this way forever from the way he was continuing to stare at her.  "That's someone else's car." 

"Oh, don't worry, they're dead," she said helpfully.  "It's your car now." 

He sputtered in dismay.  "I can't just-" 

She vamped out.  "Samuel Norman Seaborn, get in the car right now." 

"Okay."  He took the passenger side, and Mandy pulled the car onto the street. 

A little voice in the back of Sam's mind was telling him that this couldn't possibly be real.  The sun doesn't just go out over LA, and one of his best friends' ex-girlfriend can't have the ability to make her face go all lumpy and creepy, and strange men with oddly upright hair don't go around sneering at you and calling you "dinner."  The things that went bump in the night, this little voice was telling him, were just his imagination.  Wind against the trees, floorboards settling, nothing more than that. 

"I'm a vampire, Sam," Mandy said, and that little voice promptly died a fiery death, screaming in squeaky agony as it descended into hell. 

"A vampire," he repeated, wondering how he was able to wrap his tongue around those words. 

She smirked a little, trying to lighten the mood.  "I call it getting in touch with my inner Republican." 

"Oh," was all Sam could say at the moment.  Then: "Doesn't that mean you were, well - I'm not sure how to say this with tact." 

"Dead?" she asked.  She put her hand to his face for a moment, and let him feel how cold she was.  "Yeah.  But it was only for like a second.  Well, I mean, technically I'm still dead, you know?  But not as much as I used to be."  She shrugged. 

"That makes so little sense that I'm just going to ignore it," Sam said.  "Where are we going?" 

"Hotel," she said.  "If you stay in the room, there's a good chance other vampires won't be able to make a meal of you." 

He didn't even try to understand that.  "Wouldn't it be better to just leave town?" 

"Boy, I tell you, I forgot how many stupid questions you ask," Mandy muttered, turning the car into a covered garage.  "Look, it's after sunset everywhere else now, so vampires everywhere else will be out.  Better to just wait for the A.M."  She glanced over at him, and sighed at his shell-shocked expression.  "I know this is hard to take in-" 

"Hard to take in?" he balked.  "Mandy, you went off somewhere and died, and nobody - I mean, your staff position, it-"  He glared out the window.  "In the whole mess of it all, nobody ever-" 

"Noticed?"  She smiled lightly and opened her door.  "It's okay, Sam.  Most people don't notice when friends or family get turned into vampires.  I think it's got to do with the demon or something.  Now come on and let's get you inside before anyone notices you're still breathing." 

He'd finally had enough, though one could wonder if his choice of location for his breaking point was a good choice; outside, though he seemed to have forgotten this, there were literally hundreds of vampires prowling about like it was their own personal Mardi Gras.  Holding up his hands, he said, "Wait.  We're not going anywhere until I've got this figured out."  He shook his head in disbelief.  "You died.  And nobody said anything.  Did anyone even know?" 

Mandy nodded thoughtfully. "Leo knew." 

Sam looked at her, puzzled. "How did Leo know? You know, yeah, he knows everything, but how did he know you turned into a vampire?" 

"I went to visit Josh in the hospital, a day or so after the shooting.  I walked in, he saw me, and he just knew." 

Sam's eyes took on a weary and confused look.  "He never said anything." 

She shrugged and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket - Sam noticed she'd dropped the business suits for more leather-related apparel, all darks and blood-reds and slightly pornographic. Lighting up, she added, "And, by the way, I didn't turn into a vampire. Someone else turned me." 

Sam nodded, still wondering how he got stuck in this surreal universe. "If you don't mind my asking, how?" 

"I went outside for some fresh air. This was right before the shooting, by the way. Anyway, some kid grabbed me. I thought he was gonna mug me, so I scratched him up. Then, he bit me." She took a puff of nicotine. "Managed to push him off at the right time, cut him up with a piece of glass that was on the ground, and I guess he didn't know what I was doing when I started drinking from the cut I gave him on his arm." 

Surprised, Sam blinked. "You drank his blood?" 

"In my defense, I didn't know what the hell I was doing," she said. "I saw blood, and something said, hey girl, drink up. I died for a bit \- mostly while Josh was in surgery - and then I woke up and staked the little fucker who bit me." 

"That's... pretty harsh." Sam gave her a wry look. "Just like you, though." 

"Hey, be careful what you say, I might eat you too," she joked. Rather, he hoped she was joking. He chuckled just in case. 

"Let's go inside," she said gently, as if she'd noticed his discomfort.  "We can talk where there're big comfy beds." 

He stepped back suddenly.  "How do I know you're not gonna try and eat me?" 

Rolling her eyes, she said, "If that was my game, why haven't I tried it yet?  And why would I want to eat you anyway?"  She scowled.  "You probably taste like wet multivitamins, you fucking health-nut." 

"At least I'm not dead," he snarked back. 

She made an exasperated growly noise that Sam would kindly forget if he could.  "Would you like to go inside now before you get eaten and I'm stuck having to explain that to Leo?  Because, while I might love to see the look on his face for about a second, he'd stake me, and that's no fun for anybody." 

With a sigh, he followed her inside and muttered, "Death has really turned you into quite the bitch, you know that?" 

"Honey, I've always been a bitch," she replied blithely.  "I'm just a little more open about it now." 

[-----] 

The Doctor couldn't quite hide his surprise at how quickly she went from stunned to fiercely determined. 

"We came out looking for a fight," Buffy said.  "But you two should go back inside your... "  She cast a flustered glance at the ship.  "Um.  Thingy." 

The Doctor and Ace exchanged a glance.  "I've got a few hundred years of brawling under my belt, miss," he said, slipping easily into a fighting stance and looking all the stranger for it, "and I think Ace here's been cooped up long enough." 

Buffy looked over the odd-looking little man with an umbrella and a Panama hat and grinned despite herself.  "Okay, but if you get your ass whupped, don't come crying to me." 

The vampires attacked, and he neatly flipped one onto Buffy's stake before impaling another with the tip of his umbrella.  "My dear, I don't go crying to anyone."  Though they were two weapons short, the small group made quick work of the majority of the vampires.  Within minutes, they were all covered with dust, and not too much worse for wear. 

"Hey," Buffy said, stepping up to Ace and the Doctor.  "Are you guys sticking around?" 

Ace looked at the Doctor questioningly.  "We hadn't actually talked about that, had we?" 

"No," the Doctor said, frowning.  He got a hopeful expression on his face.  "Might be interesting, though." 

"More interesting than the hot salt baths on Karikos' second moon, Professor?" Ace asked with some growing disappointment. 

Buffy stifled a smile and said, "We may not be whatever that is, and we may be a little crowded, but you guys are welcome to stay with us for a bit.  Don't know what kind of food you've got in there, but - ooh!  British people like tea.  We have tea." 

"Wait, wait," Xander said.  "Buff, they're a TV show.  They're not even real." 

"I beg to differ," the Doctor said, annoyed.  "I'm as real as you are." 

"Hey, watch it, life on the hellmouth," Buffy said.  "You never really know what's real and what's not." 

Xander stepped up beside Buffy and leaned close to her ear.  "Not that I wanna break up your nice happy metaphysical discussion, but even if they're real, they might, y'know, be evil," he said. 

Buffy thought this over for a moment, then asked, "You guys working with the First?" 

The Doctor and Ace thought this over for a moment, then looked confused. 

"Good enough answer for me," Buffy said.  "Anyway, we just finished up patrolling when we bumped into you - if you wanna come visit our happy home, you know, you can." 

"You do this sort of thing every night?" Ace asked, surprised. 

The Doctor only half-paid attention to the ensuing conversation; he had tea in the TARDIS, and room, and decent enough food, but something was causing a disturbance in this area of the universe.  He'd always trusted his gut instinct about things, and right now his gut was telling him that this young woman and her friends had something to do with that disturbance, good or bad.  And he had his theories, but they would remain untested unless he followed these people for a bit and figured out who or what they really were. 

So, he followed them home. 

And in the darkness, a group of sightless men laid their sightless eyes upon the TARDIS. 

[-----] 

Crowley peered across the table at his abnormally morose companion.  "Why'd you want a drink this late at night?" 

"I just wanted to talk," Aziraphale said, defensive.  "There's nothing wrong with that, now is there?" 

"There is when it's past midnight," Crowley said.  "You know I like my sleep." 

"Then sleep in tomorrow," the angel replied as caustically as he could.  He sighed, apologetic.  "Er.  Sorry." 

Crowley did his best to look concerned - not that he wasn't, but the fact of the matter was that even after having spent hundreds of years among humans, the actual expression of concern didn't come easily or naturally to him.  "Angel," he said, "what's wrong?" 

Aziraphale looked at him despondently.  "I had Agnes Nutter's second book of prophecies in my hands, and I had to sell it." 

Crowley blinked.  "Give me the customer's name, and I'll get it back for you." 

"I think the fellow needed it for something," Aziraphale said.  "Besides, I'm not going to let you go around damning my customers, especially my best ones, every time I sell them a book I'd rather hang on to.  It's no good for business, you know." 

Crowley shrugged and refilled his glass.  Around them, the restaurant was mostly empty, save for the maitre d' and a few waiters and chefs who couldn't fathom why they were still there at such a late hour.  "Don't say I never tried to help," he muttered.  "There's no chance you can have it returned?" 

Aziraphale looked at him, befuddled.  "I'll have it back in a few days." 

"Huh?" 

"I only loaned it out to him," the angel explained.  "For a fee, but it's only on loan." 

"You mean you're making all this fuss about a loan?  You said you'd sold it," Crowley said. 

Aziraphale frowned.  "Did I?" 

"Yes, you did.  Look, if it's giving you such angst, why not just go up to the guy and ask to have it back?" 

"Well, but-"  Aziraphale thought about this for a moment.  On the one hand, Giles was a good customer, and always a man of his word.  On the other hand, one could never trust humans, not really - they were fickle creatures, fully capable of running the gamut between pure good and pure evil.  "I suppose we could follow him, make sure he doesn't put the book in undue harm?" 

Crowley grinned, and said, "That's the spirit."  Aziraphale was almost certain that grin couldn't be a good sign.  Being of the spiritual variety of creatures, it wasn't too difficult for them to figure out where Rupert Giles lived, but Crowley, not wanting to actually ask his or Aziraphale's bosses for information, logged onto the Internet using his mobile and did a People Finder search on ThomWeb instead.  Within moments, they had his address, and were on the road. 

When they pulled up to Giles' flat a short while later (they might not have gone through either the angelic or demonic routes of finding the address, but Crowley would be blessed if he went anything slower than devilishly fast when Aziraphale was looking so worried in the passenger seat next to him), they were both a bit perturbed to find no car in the driveway and no lights in the house. 

"He might be asleep," Crowley said in what he hoped was a hopeful voice.  
Aziraphale cast a dubious glance his way and proceeded to pick the lock on the front door.  The place looked and smelled as if nobody had lived there for weeks, if not months. 

"The bastard ran off with my book," Aziraphale spat. 

Glancing around in vague dismay, Crowley said, "Let's have a look about; maybe we can figure out where he went." 

"Yes," Aziraphale said darkly before setting about to do just that. 

[-----] 

"Sam," Mandy said as they approached the hotel room in the mostly abandoned hotel, "go inside and tell me you live there." 

Looking at her in confusion, he unlocked the door, stepped inside, and said, "I live here... ?" 

She tried to push her hand through the doorway, and found that she couldn't.  Smiling, she said, "Great.  Stay there, I'll get us some food.  Don't invite anyone in." 

"I'm not really hungry," Sam said; though he really wasn't hungry, he wasn't sure if he'd told her that out of truthfulness or out of fear of being alone for any prolonged period of time.  All he really wanted was to get out of this strange shell of Los Angeles, and go back to D.C. where the most exciting thing that ever happened was law-making.  Or, well, the odd assassination attempt or two.  But they weren't assassination attempts by vampires, so maybe they weren't all that exciting after all. 

He sat down on the bed without closing the door, and waited.  It must have been fifteen minutes later when Mandy returned, a paper bag in her hand, dripping what he hoped to God was grease.  "Invite me in?" she asked. 

"Er, come in," he said, and she stepped through the doorway and handed him the sack.  It had a hamburger, some fries, and a can of soda.  "French fry?" he offered. 

"Nah, already ate," she replied.  He decided not to ask what, exactly, she'd eaten.  "I'll help you get out of L.A. in the morning.  Might as well get some sleep, you've had a rough day." 

"Couple of days," he corrected with a mirthless laugh, chomping down on the burger.  He'd never thought beef flavored grease could taste so good. 

She peered out the window and said, "Yeah, the election, I heard about that.  Tough break.  You'll bounce back." 

"Probably not." 

So Sam sat there, eating a hamburger with a vampire who used to date his best friend, in a town that was completely dark even during the day; he figured sanity was fast leaving him anyway, so he asked, "Why didn't you attack me like that guy did?  Seriously, I mean.  No joke answers." 

Mandy turned around and looked at him thoughtfully.  "I seriously didn't want the U.S. government hunting me down, and that's exactly what would've happened if word got back to D.C. that you'd gone missing in L.A.  The military isn't exactly the friendliest group to the undead, you know." 

"Yeah, but there're a lot of vampires out here," Sam said.  "If I'd disappeared, died, whatever, they wouldn't target you alone.  Come on, Mandy, give." 

She averted her eyes.  "I'm not telling you." 

"Tell me." 

"No." 

"Would Leo know?" 

Mandy rolled her eyes.  "Don't call Leo.  Look, it's embarrassing.  I-" 

Sam waited for her to continue, and when she didn't, he pressed on.  "You what?" 

"I don't like the sight of blood," she mumbled.  "Not, you know, coming out of people.  I usually just go to the blood banks or butcher shops." 

"You-"  He stared at her.  "You're a vampire, and you don't like the sight of blood." 

"It's not like I don't like violence and destruction," she said defensively.  "I'm still a soulless beast and everything.  I just - I couldn't ever watch shows like M*A*S*H, or ER, or anything on the Discovery Channel.  Like, ever.  It makes me all squeamish." 

Sam continued to stare at her, and was about to ask her how she copes with being a vampire with a fear of gushing, or even dribbling blood, when another thought occurred to him.  "Hey," he said suddenly. 

She looked up from the carpet, the defensiveness slowly leaving her eyes.  "What?" 

"If L.A. is all demon-infested-" 

"I'm not an infestation!" 

"Sorry.  Demon-run, then.  Where are they filming all the TV shows they usually film around here?" 

Mandy got a thoughtful look on her face.  "Well, a lot of the studios aren't in the city itself, and the no-sunlight thing only extends to the city limit.  So I guess those outside the city are still being filmed at their normal locations." 

"And the ones that aren't?" 

She shrugged.  "Probably New Mexico." 

"Why New Mexico?" 

"It's New Mexico.  There's nothing else there." 

He shook his head and balled up his trash.  "I think I'm gonna go to bed now." 

"It's like seven thirty," she said with a laugh. 

"Yeah," Sam said.  "Still.  It's been a weird day." 

She shrugged again.  "True.  I'm gonna prowl around for a while.  Don't invite anyone in while I'm gone."  She left, closing the door behind her. 

Sam kicked off his shoes, pulled off his belt, and rinsed his mouth out as best as he could without a toothbrush or anything.  He crawled into bed, and lay on his back. 

An hour later, he was still staring at the ceiling, almost positive that sleep wasn't going to come to him anytime soon. 


	3. Prophecy Boy 3

**Prophecy Boy**

**by: Baked Goldfish**

**Character(s):** Sam, Leo, Mandy  
**Category(s):** Crossover/AU  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Disclaimer:** The West Wing is NBC's. Buffy The Vampire Slayer is Fox's. Doctor Who is, um, someone's, possibly the BBC's. Good Omens is Terry Pratchett's and Neil Gaiman's. None of this is mine, I'm not making any money on this, please don't sue me.  
**Summary:** Where is Mandy Hampton? A West Wing/Good Omens/Buffy/Dr. Who Crossover.  


* * *

"I've never been," Aziraphale said.  Around them, sleepy travelers rested on the ugly nondescript airplane seats, and the captain's remarks seemed more lethargic than usual.  Even the constant mechanical hum of jet engines sounded tired so late at night. 

Crowley looked up from his magazine.  "I thought there was that one time.  During the Armageddon." 

"Hmm?  Oh, that was possession, that couldn't count.  Could it?"  Aziraphale shook his head.  "I can't believe he ran off with my book.  To America, of all places." 

Grinning, Crowley said, "Way you're talking about it makes it seem like it's the closest thing this planet's got to Down There." 

"It's a big country all the way overseas that's holding my book hostage," Aziraphale nearly spat, slumping down in the mottled foam-filled seat.  "Might as well be damnation itself." 

Crowley almost said, "It's just a book," and then thought better of it.  Instead, he said, "Look, we know your chap's heading to somewhere in California.  We're only one flight behind him.  We'll find your book and bring it back safe and sound." 

The angel glared sourly at him.  "I don't see how this is earning you any points with your superiors." 

Crowley grinned wickedly.  "When I'm done with-" 

"You're not cursing my customer." 

The grin was quickly replaced by a pout.  "I'll think of something."  Off Aziraphale's suspicious look, he defensively added, "I will!  Traffic jam or something." 

The plane began to take off.  "About time," Aziraphale muttered, peering out the window.  "What'd you say this thing was?  A concave?" 

"Concorde," Crowley sighed, still unsure after all these years whether the angel was playing Luddite, or was so secluded in his musty tomes that he actually didn't know what they were flying in.  And after all Crowley had done to get this thing up in the air on a non-stop to the Twin Cities at this odd and sudden hour, he thought maybe the angel would show some sort of gratitude and remember the name of the blessed plane. 

Although they'd reach Minnesota long before that Rupert Giles hit New York, he was on a direct non-stop, whereas they had a nasty little layover for a couple of hours.  It had been the best he could do on such short notice.  It would get them maybe a half hour or so behind their prey, hopefully.  He turned the page of his magazine as Aziraphale peered out the window. 

[-----] 

"I still can't believe we have Doctor Who and Ace in our house," Andrew said, pouring some tea into the only clean mug in the building and not at all noticing the way Xander half-scowled at the way he'd said, "our house."  "I mean, you live on a hellmouth, you think you've seen it all - and then one day the TARDIS is parked in your driveway." 

"Well, technically, it's not in the driveway," Xander said.  Half the potentials were crowded into the kitchen, grabbing foodstuffs for a mid-morning breakfast.  "We kinda left it out in the middle of the street." 

Ace grabbed a donut and said, "You know, I've been wondering about that.  Won't people notice?" 

"People didn't notice when the mayor turned into a giant snake and tried to eat the Sunnydale High graduating class for lunch," Xander replied.  "I think your little blue box'll be safe from prying eyes." 

"I hope so," Ace said ruefully.  "Otherwise, Professor'll have a fit." 

"I will not," the Doctor said as he entered the room.  Anya and Spike were right behind him.  "Now come along, Ace, these nice young people have explained to me what a hellmouth is, and I'd like to explore it a bit." 

Xander stared at Spike, skeptical.  "Nice?" 

Spike shrugged.  "I can play nice when I want to." 

"Where's Miss Summers?  I'd like to say goodbye," the Doctor said. 

"Probably warming up in the backyard," Xander said.  "She might be a little snippy.  Not a morning person, our Buff." 

"No sane man or woman is," the Doctor grumbled as he went off to find her. 

Andrew stared dejectedly at the steaming mug in front of him.  "He didn't drink the tea I made." 

Xander patted him awkwardly on the back before heading to the backyard to train.  "I'm sure it wasn't on purpose." 

Nodding, Andrew started sipping the tea.  By the time he was done, the doorbell was ringing.  He got up and opened the door; the Doctor and Ace were standing there, both looking slightly anxious (though, Andrew noticed, the Doctor was far better at hiding it than Ace was).  "What's up?" 

The Doctor smiled hopefully at him.  "You wouldn't know where one might find a missing TARDIS, would you?" 

[-----] 

Sam woke up to the feel of a cold hand shaking him by the shoulder.  "Nuh?" 

"I let you sleep in," Mandy said, sitting on the bed beside him.  "It's nearly noon.  Time for you to skip town." 

He blinked blearily and sat up; his mouth felt disgustingly fuzzy, and for a moment he entertained the thought that he had mold growing on his tongue and gums.  He glanced at the window.  It was still dark.  "Where am I going?" he asked, surprised at how rough his voice sounded. 

"Dunno."  Mandy picked at the bed linens and muttered, mostly under her breath, "Just don't go back south." 

His ears perked up at that.  He knew that curiosity killed the cat, but Sam had always been a dog person anyway.  "Why?" 

"Uh?"  Mandy stared blankly at him for a minute.  "No reason." 

Sam licked his lips.  "You know how we always used to beat you at poker?"  She continued to stare blankly.  "You know how even Josh used to beat you at poker?" 

She scowled and rolled her eyes.  "Don't go south," she repeated.  "It's kinda dangerous down there." 

"I get the feeling you're not talking about drug running," he said, sitting up further. 

Looking him in the eyes, she said, "I'm not.  Just trust me." 

"You said it yourself, you're a soulless beast who likes destruction," he shot back.  "Why should I trust you?" 

"Because if I wanted you dead, I would've killed you by now and gotten a meal out of it," she replied evenly.  "I wouldn't try and lead you to your death somewhere I won't be able to see it." 

She'd made a good point, but Sam still couldn't quite get over the whole not-having-a-soul thing.  "Okay.  Fine.  Let's say I don't go south.  What'll I miss?" 

"A place called the hellmouth," she said.  Frowning, she reassessed: "Well, actually, it's called Sunnydale.  But it's really a hellmouth, uh, a sort of gateway between different dimensions, and general focal point of malaise and destruction.  It's always dangerous, but it's more dangerous than normal right now." 

Sam looked out the window again; knowing it was mid-afternoon and seeing that it looked like midnight was strange, to say the least.  Los Angeles in permanent darkness, Los Angeles without the gritty yellowed skies, Los Angeles without the smog-filled, disgusting, and wonderfully average days.  "Nothing can be worse than this," he mumbled. 

Mandy looked at him with growing apprehension.  She'd forgotten how Don Quixote-esque Sam could get sometimes, and wondered if it was really the best idea to warn him about Sunnydale.  Many so-called experts on souls seemed to believe that the soul was what bound people to one another \- intimacy, friendship, worry, guilt are all supposedly tied to the soul.  Mandy figured those so-called experts had never lived without a soul if they really believed that a soulless being couldn't care about others.  The soulless might not consistently do much to prevent a friend or loved one's death, but they'd sure miss them when they were gone. 

Realizing that Sam was definitely going to head to Sunnydale now, Mandy had already started missing him. 

"It can totally get worse," she said, softly but emphatically. 

He turned to face her.  "But you're not gonna stop me from going, are you." 

She chuckled.  "Death couldn't even stop you.  But I'm gonna advise against it." 

Finally getting to his feet, Sam nodded and got dressed.  "How do I get there?" 

"You'll see the signs if you keep driving south," she said.  "I'm gonna make this as hard for you as possible." 

Shaking his head and smiling, he opened his mouth as if to say something.  Just then, sunlight started streaming through the blinds; he turned around, squinting in disbelief, as Mandy started sizzling.  The smell of burning flesh hit him after a half-second, and he stumbled over the bed to close the curtains as fast as possible. 

"Ow," Mandy said. 

"Sorry," Sam said.  "Um.  What just happened?" 

"No idea."  She checked herself over to make sure there weren't any major burns or scars.  Happy with her prognosis, she said, "Well, I'd been planning on escorting you out, but I guess that's pretty unnecessary now.  Not to mention, again, ow." 

"Okay."  He nodded awkwardly before heading for the door. 

"Sam."  Her hand was on his arm, a stronger grip than he'd ever remembered her having, and her eyes were almost - almost - pleading.  "What can I say to stop you from going to Sunnydale?" 

For a moment, he was looking at the door, his eyes unfocused.  Then, he looked at her and said, "In the past eighteen hours, I've learned that everything I've ever known about humanity and this earth is wrong.  I mean, screw being alone in the universe, we're not even alone on this planet.  To me, this is weird.  And there's a place where all this weirdness comes into focus?  This - I have to see this." 

She looked at him, resigned.  "Don't get yourself killed, then." 

"I won't," he promised.  He was about to leave, when he stopped with his hand on the doorknob.  On impulse, he turned around and hugged her.  "Thank you, by the way." 

"For what?" 

"For-"  He stepped back, and grinned self-depreciatingly.  "For not eating me." 

She chuckled.  Then he left, and her smile faded into worry. 

[-----] 

Giles threw his bags onto the floor by his bed in the cramped hotel room.  He needed one day to himself to prepare himself for the work ahead, and he eyed the bland comforter with just a little bit of excitement. 

Usually, he would have gone for a larger room, but money had to be siphoned into feeding a horde of teenage girls these days, and he didn't quite have the funds for anything better than the spartan but clean Ramada Inn.  Plus, they'd rerouted his flight to New Mexico and he'd had catch a bus to Sunnydale - LAX was closed for obvious reasons, so they couldn't fly in there, and Sunnydale International wasn't taking planes that day for reasons beyond even his comprehension.  The added expense of bus fare had made it impossible to get a higher-class hotel - well, as high-class as they got in Sunnydale - while staying within the constraints of his weekly budget.  Flopping down on the bed fully clothed, he closed his eyes and figured that whoever had first told him that teenage girls didn't need as much to eat as teenage boys had never, ever met an actual teenage girl. 

With a sigh, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, opened his bag, and pulled out the book of prophecies.  He'd need to go over the book sometime today, but he was burnt out from the long flight and tired of sitting down in one place.  He looked outside.  The sky was clear, there was a warm breeze blowing, and all the colors were so very bright. 

Putting the book down on top of the comforter, he headed out for a walk. 

[-----] 

Sam pulled into the parking lot of the first hotel he saw: the Sunnydale Ramada Inn.  The hotel sign said it had a bar, an outdoor pool, and heating/air conditioning.  All he really cared about was whether it had a bed.  His one night in Los Angeles had been restless, and he was tired.  Shutting off the car, he glanced at his watch: half past two.  Not bad timing. 

He easily got a room, though he was sure by the way the hotel manager had looked at him that the staff here had made it a point not to vote for his pinko liberal commie ass.  But when the manager asked if he needed help with any of his bags, Sam realized that all his bags were still in the abandoned rental car in Los Angeles.  Also, he realized that the abandoned rental car was in Los Angeles, and how on earth was he supposed to explain to Enterprise Rent-A-Car that he'd had to leave it when it had broken down in front of a sadistic murderous vampire.  He went a little pale. 

"Sir?" the manager asked. 

"Uh," Sam said.  "Uh, no, I'm fine.  Thanks."  He went to the drug store next door, picked up a disposable razor, toothbrush, and toothpaste, and then hurried to his room.  A shower and shave later, he decided to go shopping for some cleaner clothes. 

It only took him half an hour to get the clothing situation sorted out.  Walking around Sunnydale, a bag of shirts, trousers, and underwear in his hand, he could scarcely take Mandy's warnings about coming to this town seriously.  It was a nice enough place, looked decent enough to raise a family in, and, though it didn't seem too populated at the moment, the people seemed friendly enough.  Still, when he saw a foot-long pointed branch lying on the ground, he picked it up just in case. 

It was on his walk back to the hotel that he noticed the rather decrepit building standing between two normal-looking shops.  The few other pedestrians who passed it by paid it no mind, but he couldn't help but notice that the weather-beaten, ragged "Condemned" sign was clearly months old.  He stared in confusion, unaware that his mouth was gaping and his eyes had gone wide. 

"If you think this is bad, you should've been around last year," said a decidedly British voice behind him. 

He gripped his kind of mean pointy stick tighter and turned to the source.  "How's that?" 

"That's when they finally razed the old high school," the other man said.  "They'd left its burnt-out shell standing for a good three years." 

Sam glanced back at the shop.  "How long's this place been like this?  And what the hell happened to it?" 

"A few months," he replied.  Sam noticed that his second question had studiously been avoided.  "You should probably get indoors, you know.  It's getting late." 

"But," Sam began.  "But, you can't leave condemned buildings around like this, it's-"  He faltered to a stop, staring at the shambled store.  "This town really is weird, isn't it." 

Giles knew it wasn't too often a visitor noticed what residents valiantly tried to deny.  He'd already noticed the way the stranger had been holding that branch of his, and now this, coupled with the fact that the stranger had somehow heard of Sunnydale's... eccentricities, made Giles worry.  "You're not from around here," he said warily. 

"Not for a while," Sam replied, sensing his sudden defensiveness.  "But neither are you." 

"I'm more from here than anywhere else."  It was truthful enough; though he was born and bred in England, Sunnydale was home to his adopted family, and part of his destiny.  The town was as much a part of him as it was a part of the others.  So what if he'd only spent one tenth of his existence here; he was bound to the place by things more important than time. 

Sam looked him square in the eyes.  "Look," he said quietly.  "I'm not here to cause trouble.  I just - I'm passing through.  I don't even know why I'm really here, except an old friend told me to avoid this place like the plague." 

"You'd do well to heed that advice," Giles said as evenly as he could. 

Sam shrugged.  "I've never been the type to take my friends' advice." 

"Well then take a stranger's advice," Giles said.  "Judging by your, um, stick - where on earth did you find that?  Well, probably next to any old tree, but it's so... " 

He glanced at the dejected-looking twig in his hand.  "It was lying on the ground a few blocks back." 

"You'll need a proper - drop that thing," he said, producing a hand-made stake from a coat pocket.  Handing it to Sam, he continued: "Judging by the fact you had sense to pick up a weapon, you know of the night life in this town, but unless you've got some skills with a stake, it'll do you very little good.  It's getting late, so you should get inside.  And tomorrow morning, you should leave." 

Sam stared at the stake in his hand for a good moment before looking up at the man who'd given it to him.  "Who are you?" 

"The proprietor of this shop," he said.  "Rupert Giles.  And you?" 

"Sam Seaborn," he replied. 

Brow furrowing, Giles said, "Where have I heard your name?" 

"Well, I just lost the Orange County Congressional seat; you might've heard about me on the news," he said with a hint of a smile. 

Giles looked doubtful at that.  "I don't really follow American politics," he said.  Looking at the sky, he added, "At any rate, I should be going." 

Sam took one last look at the stake, and when he looked up again, he was alone on the street.  He looked at the setting sun; funny, but he hadn't felt those two hours passing so quickly.  He made a beeline for the hotel. 

[-----] 

The "Scoobies," as the Doctor and Ace had soon found out was this rangy group's nickname, had just spent the last hour sweeping a good half of the city with them in search of the TARDIS.  It was, predictably, nowhere to be found. 

"You guys are welcome to stay at our house," Buffy said, seemingly apologetic that their ship had gone missing.  "We'll be canvassing the whole city later tonight during patrol, and we'll have a lot more people then to look.  I promise we'll find it." 

"Thank you," the Doctor said.  "It's my fault for leaving it so.  You really don't have to-"  But Buffy told them it was no problem to look and that they should've found it by now anyway, and he kept it hidden that, though he was worried about the whereabouts of his TARDIS, he was content to now have an excuse to stick around and study this place.  In all his years, he'd never seen anything quite like it. 

"Professor," Ace said, when the Scoobies and potentials made their way out to start patrols, "does something seem off to you here?" 

He looked at his pocketwatch, which seemed to have changed more than two hours over the course of a few minutes.  "Quite," he said. 

[-----] 

"You know, it's not my fault the connecting flight got delayed," Aziraphale said as he sat down on the hard plastic seat by the rental agencies.  Crowley was waiting patiently at the end of the line, and Aziraphale looked up at him.  "Why on earth are you smiling?" 

Crowley nodded at the long, slow moving line, filled with jet-lagged customers who wanted nothing more than dinner, a warm bed, and a car to get there.  "I invented these - and those partitions, too, the ribbon ones that make you walk in a maze.  Just taking a little pride in my work."  Off Aziraphale's glum countenance, he asked, "What's wrong with you?" 

"This place doesn't feel right." 

The line shuffled slightly, and Crowley managed to get to the front.  He got his keys and pulled Aziraphale along by the elbow.  "Look," he said.  "We'll find your man, get your book, and be gone before this place so much as gives you the sniffles." 

As they walked to their car in the lot, they heard growling.  Aziraphale looked at the vampires that jumped out at them.  "Er.  Hello?" 

What appeared to be the lead vampire looked at him, first hungry then perplexed.  "Huh?"  One of his companions nudged him, whispered something in his ear, and he looked at Aziraphale and Crowley in shock.  "Oh!  Damn.  Angels?" 

"Angel, singular," Crowley corrected, slightly miffed. 

Aziraphale smote them, then turned to Crowley.  "You never said anything about vampires." 

"Oh.  Well, I forgot to tell you," Crowley said.  "This is a hellmouth.  It's probably what's got you feeling so down." 

Aziraphale glowered at him.  "Thank you for telling me.  Not like hellmouths can give us angelic types great big whooping coughs, oh no.  I see how much you care for me now." 

"Well, I am an agent of evil," Crowley said as they got into their car \- it wasn't quite as classic as Crowley had wanted, but the '67 Corvette seemed to be the best America could come up with on such short notice.  "If I went around treating angels with kid gloves all the time, I'd get reprimanded.  Besides, I only just remembered where we were.  Not like I did it on purpose." 

Aziraphale glared out the window.  "I'm not talking to you.  Take me to the hotel." 

"Fine, angel," Crowley grumbled.  They headed for the local Ramada.  Once they got in, got their keys, and dumped what little stuff they had brought in their rooms, Crowley said, "I'm going to the bar.  Care to join me?" 

"No," Aziraphale groused.  He looked around the empty, bland room.  "All right.  Yes." 

The hotel was very close to empty, but the few residents who were there seemed to have congregated in the ground floor bar.  They picked an out of the way booth, got their drinks, and were mulling in silence when Aziraphale's ears perked.  "Oh dear," he said. 

Crowley stopped playing with his swizzle stick long enough to ask, "What?  Are we done with our row?" 

"No," the angel replied tersely.  A group of knot-faced demons crashed through the glass wall.  "Your vampires are back." 

"They're not my vampires, the lousy half-breeds," Crowley groused.  He was about to extol their many inabilities when he noticed a commotion besides the general mayhem.  "What's that man trying to do?" 

Aziraphale turned around and frowned at the sight.  "Get himself killed, possibly," he said, preparing to end the fight before it began. 

Crowley put a hand on Aziraphale's arm.  "Wait." 

[-----] 

Sam had been enjoying his drink.  He'd been sitting at the bar, enjoying his drink, and enjoying his brooding session.  And now he was face to face with vampires, and not even the decent kind like Mandy.  He figured that all those times he'd thought his life sucked in the White House, he'd been pretty much overstating things. 

"Look," he said, standing up.  The vampires stopped what they were doing, inadvertently allowing the majority of their prey to escape.  "You guys aren't gonna ruin this day too.  This much stress... just isn't healthy." 

The vampire closest to him blinked in confusion.  "Uh?" 

"I mean," he continued, as if he didn't see the fangs and bony protrusions and dripping blood.  "I didn't even think you all could come in here without an invite.  What's going on here?" 

The vampire bristled at this, and then looked vaguely smug.  "This is a public building.  Anyone's invited." 

"No," Sam said.  He didn't really know why he was doing this, except he'd been enjoying that drink and now he wasn't enjoying anything anymore.  "No, this is a place of residence."  The vampires looked confused again, and he continued: "I signed a contract when I got here that said I could live here for a few days.  All these people signed contracts too.  And, as I understand, you lot can't enter a place of residence without someone actually telling you to come inside." 

The vampire, whose name had been Harry at one point but was now Scab because he thought it sounded cooler, sighed and reluctantly got into the debate.  "Dude, you signed a contract to live in a room.  Not the bar." 

Sam smiled mirthlessly.  "Ah.  But it didn't exclude the bar.  Loopholes are a lawyer's best friends, you know." 

Scab frowned.  "Oh," he said, and then he and his pals were blasted back outside. 

Sam's eyes went wide as his smile fell.  "Well, that was new and different." 

The vampires had quickly dusted themselves off and left the area; Sam, being the curious cat that he was, peered outside to see where they were.  They were congregating by the entrance, obviously in a fight with someone who was mostly holding his own, but slowly being taken down nonetheless. 

Sam bolted for the entrance, ignoring the odd stares he was getting from the bar patrons as he passed them.  He yanked the door open and pulled the man inside, leaving the vampires snarling outside. 

"What was it you said about it not being safe at night?" Sam said as he recognized who he'd just pulled inside. 

Giles stared at the slowly dispersing vampires.  "They should be able to come in," he muttered, confused. 

"Well, they can't," Sam said.  "Don't quite know what happened, but.  Hey, you're looking a little banged up." 

"It's not that bad," Giles said.  "Nothing a good night's sleep or a stiff drink can't cure." 

Sam grimaced as he looked back at the bar.  "You might wanna take that drink from your minibar." 

Wary, Giles walked to the bar and looked at the destruction.  "What on earth happened?" 

"I'm guessing something along the lines of what happened to your shop?" 

Staring almost blankly ahead, Giles said, "Probably not."  He turned and looked at Sam with his harshest glare.  "You and I need to have a chat." 

Sam wasn't entirely sure what he'd done to warrant such a look, but he evenly met that glare with one of his own, and figured a talk with this guy would either get him killed or get him straightened out.  At this point, he welcomed either one of those possibilities.  "Yeah," he agreed. 


	4. Prophecy Boy 4

**Prophecy Boy**

**by: Baked Goldfish**

**Character(s):** Sam, Leo, Mandy  
**Category(s):** Crossover/AU  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Disclaimer:** The West Wing is NBC's. Buffy The Vampire Slayer is Fox's. Doctor Who is, um, someone's, possibly the BBC's. Good Omens is Terry Pratchett's and Neil Gaiman's. None of this is mine, I'm not making any money on this, please don't sue me.  
**Summary:** Where is Mandy Hampton? A West Wing/Good Omens/Buffy/Dr. Who Crossover.  


* * *

Aziraphale looked as if he were getting second thoughts.  "We really shouldn't be snooping," he said. 

Crowley stopped, a few steps away from Giles' door.  The ones they were snooping behind had entered the room only seconds before.  "You weren't saying that a few minutes ago when you said, 'Hey, we should snoop,' were you?" 

"It's just-"  The angel leaned against a wall and crossed his arms over his chest.  "When I loaned him the book, he told me he'd keep it safe.  And then he ran off with it to America.  America, of all places.  And I thought, well, perhaps I should follow him, make sure he wasn't lying about keeping the book safe." 

After waiting a few moments and realizing Aziraphale wasn't going to be saying anything else, Crowley asked, "And now you're having a guilt attack?  You were the one who was all gung-ho about illegally going through his flat, you know." 

Giving the demon a scowl, Aziraphale uncrossed his arms and said, "I didn't see you stopping me." 

His eyes going wide, though nobody could see for the dark shades he was wearing, Crowley sputtered, "How many times do I have to tell you?  I'm evil, more or less.  It's my job to try to corrupt His most holiest of acolytes." 

"I-"  Aziraphale came to a halt and stared at Crowley.  "Are you trying now?" he asked, looking almost hurt. 

Crowley was honestly confused, and it showed.  "Huh?" 

"Are you trying to lead me into the darkness?" 

He could almost laugh at the look on the angel's face, but he didn't.  "Of course I'm not," he said.  "What gave you that idea?" 

"Mostly when you said, 'It's my job to try to corrupt His most holiest of acolytes,'" Aziraphale replied.  "So are you?" 

Crowley looked at Aziraphale with complete incomprehension, and shook his head.  "No," he said firmly.  "Not now, and, really, not for the past hundred, hundred-fifty years." 

And for the first time since Crowley had known him, Aziraphale looked bitter and mistrustful.  "You will excuse me if I don't quite believe you," he said; for some reason, his voice sounded particularly cutting. 

"Oh, please," Crowley muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose before glaring at Aziraphale.  "What is this?  You've secretly been trying to lead me to salvation, and now you're getting paranoid that I'm trying to work you too?" 

"Everything that has led up to this point," Aziraphale hissed.  "Not trusting a customer who would given no reason for mistrust, breaking into his flat and going through his things, following him halfway across the globe for - for a material possession-" 

"Were all your choices," Crowley interrupted.  "You can't blame me for your own decisions." 

"You stopped me from helping that man in the bar," Aziraphale said pointedly. 

"And he did fine, didn't he?"  This line of questioning was quickly becoming more than simply annoying to Crowley; he knew better than to try and play the angel.  They'd been allies for as long as he could remember, and neither one would get anything from converting the other.  Beyond that, he rather liked Aziraphale the way he was.  "This is the jet-lag, isn't it?" 

Before Aziraphale could reply, Giles' door opened.  The looked at the dark-haired man from the bar as he peeped into the hallway. 

"Um, excuse me.  Hi."  Sam gave them a brief smile.  "We were wondering if you guys could, maybe, keep it down out here?" 

Crowley huffed quietly, and Aziraphale blinked.  "So much for snooping," the demon muttered stiffly. 

Giles stuck his head out then, curious.  His eyes widened in surprise when he recognized the shopowner.  "You followed me across the Atlantic?" 

"You took my book to America," Aziraphale snapped. 

"You never told me I couldn't!" 

Aziraphale's frown deepened.  "You said you'd only have it for a few days." 

Giles raised his eyebrows and replied, "I never said those few days would be spent in England, now did I?" 

Sam and Crowley stepped out of the way as Giles and Aziraphale continued to quabble about the fate of the book.  "So, hey," Sam said to Crowley. 

"Yeah, how are you?" Crowley said back. 

Sam shrugged.  "Not bad.  Um, if you don't mind my asking.  Who are you?" 

Crowley smirked a little.  "Friend of his," he said, nodding in the direction of the quietly furious angel.  "You?" 

"Tourist," Sam answered.  He figured if the guy beside him could tell a half truth, so could he.  "What're they arguing about?" 

"You stole my book!" Aziraphale yelled. 

"I paid an arm and a leg to borrow the damn thing," Giles sputtered.  "And you - you stalked me!" 

"I did not-"  He turned to Crowley.  "Did I stalk him?" 

Crowley thought for a moment.  "Well.  Yeah." 

"You shut up," the angel seethed.  "You're trying to turn me to the dark side." 

Sam frowned.  "Did he just say-" 

Crowley turned to Sam.  "Don't ask." 

"Yeah, I don't think I will." 

"I needed to at least look through the book," Giles stressed.  "And I needed to be here-" 

"Why?" Aziraphale shot back.  "Because of the hellmouth?" 

They gaped.  After a moment, Crowley said, "Bless, you're in a mood, aren't you?" 

Giles grabbed Aziraphale's arm and pulled him into the room; Crowley followed. 

"I'm just gonna hang back for a sec," Sam muttered, pulling out his cellphone.  He didn't particularly want to know how these guys knew they were in a hellmouth, especially when he still wasn't too sure what a hellmouth was.  He and Giles hadn't been able to talk about anything, since as soon as they'd entered the room, they'd heard those other two arguing in the hall about whether it was right or not to be snooping. 

He sighed, and dialed.  After only two rings, it picked up.  "Hey, Leo?" 

"Sam," Leo said, all the way across the country.  "Where are you?" 

"Sunnydale." 

There was a sharp intake of breath, and Leo said, "Get out of there." 

The noise in Giles' room had died down, but Sam wasn't ready to go back in just yet.  He slid down the wall and sat on the floor, his legs straight out before him.  "Why?" 

"It's-"  Another intake of breath.  "Why did you even go there in the first place?" 

"I campaigned here, Leo," he replied, although, come to think of it, he didn't remember ever coming through Sunnydale before.  "It's part of the county I ran in." 

"Well, leave it." 

"Why?" he asked again.  "Even Mandy gave me more information than you, and she's, y'know, undead." 

Leo inhaled sharply again, and Sam absently wondered if he had exhaled at all in recent memory.  "You saw Mandy?" 

"In LA," Sam said.  "Don't worry, she didn't bite me.  Actually, she told me not to come here, too." 

"Look," Leo said.  Sam could imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose, could imagine the ridges on his face deepening with frustration.  "Look.  There's things about that place I can't discuss on the phone, okay?  You don't even have clearance to know, but I swear, if you get out of there right now I'll tell you everything." 

"What exactly is the clearance level to know this stuff?" 

"Officially?  It doesn't exist." 

The noise had started up again; he closed his eyes and rolled his head from side to side.  He wanted to get out of Sunnydale.  He might have told Mandy that he wanted to find out everything he could about this different world, but he couldn't help this growing feeling that maybe he'd bitten off quite a bit more than he could chew. 

And yet. 

"You know something funny?" he asked after that moment's contemplation.  "You're the third person to tell me that Sunnydale's no good for me.  But, I think I'm gonna stick around anyway." 

Leo finally exhaled, and it sounded like static on the phone.  "If you die there, Sam, I swear I'm gonna kick your ass." 

"Duly noted," he said before clicking the phone shut. 

The door opened, and the words, "Of course I know it's a hellmouth, I'm an angel!" filtered out. 

Sam blinked eloquently. 

The one with shades poked his head out of the room and looked at Sam.  Then he grinned a reptilian grin, and said, "He's a comedian.  Prankster sort, on a reality show.  There's a camera in the light fixture.  Have papers for you to sign tomorrow.  Goodbye.  Come along, angel."  He pulled his companion down the hall and into the stairwell. 

When he knew they were out of earshot of the others, Crowley turned to Aziraphale and glared at him.  "What is wrong with you?" he hissed, holding Aziraphale's arm in what he knew was an almost painful manner.  "'Oh, I know about the hellmouth, I'm an angel!'  What possessed you to just - just blurt that out?" 

Aziraphale pulled away from Crowley's rough grip.  "I don't know," he muttered, running a hand over his face.  "I'm feeling a bit out of sorts." 

"You've been acting a bit out of sorts ever since we got here," Crowley said.  "Not quite your bastardly cheerful self, you know?" 

Aziraphale shot him an annoyed glance.  "You haven't been helping much.  It's the hellmouth, is what it is.  It's making me-"  He looked as if he were trying some words on for size, and then he sighed.  "It's making me burn." 

"Hey."  Crowley put his hand on the angel's shoulder, looking at him with worry on his face.  "You should get out of here, then.  I'll look after your book for you." 

His jaw clenched in concentration, and Aziraphale said, "No.  I-I'll just have to get a handle on it." 

"You should leave." 

"I am not leaving," he growled, pushing past Crowley and heading up the stairs to their room. 

"You're not getting a handle on it, either," Crowley stated as coldly as he could.  "And you said it yourself, this is no place for angels.  It's no good for you.  I say we leave, and I'll get that book from that Giles fellow for you later." 

Aziraphale stared back at him, his face not nearly as blank as he'd wanted it to be.  "Tomorrow," he quietly said.  "He said he'd be done with it tomorrow, so tomorrow we can leave with it." 

Crowley watched Aziraphale go up to the next floor.  Watching the slow, deliberate steps the angel was making, the demon suddenly found himself wanting to be very, very drunk. 

He headed down to the decimated bar. 

[-----] 

As soon as the odd pair entered the stairwell, Sam got up and peeked inside Giles' room.  He was on the phone, turned so that he faced the window.  Outside, the town was almost pitch black, an almost unheard of state in California, even in the suburbs.  Sam knocked lightly, not wanting to interrupt Giles' conversation, but really wanting to pick up from where they hadn't been able to start. 

Giles heard him, or saw his reflection in the window, and turned to wave him in.  Sam stood just inside the doorway as Giles talked on the phone.  "Yes, Willow - I need a spell that doesn't take too many \- what?"  He paused.  "Who's there?  Hmm."  Another pause, and his eyebrows raised.  "Ah.  Oh dear.  Um, should I be there for that?" 

Sam waited patiently for the conversation to end, and tried not to listen in too closely.  When, a few moments later, he heard Giles say, "I'll be there in the morning," he perked up and stood straight again. 

"Mr. Seaborn, the reason-" 

"It's Sam," he said.  "Sam's fine." 

"Sam, then," Giles said.  "The reason I wanted to talk to you is this: vampires have free reign of public areas, including bars and hotel lobbies.  That standing invitation isn't easy to revoke.  Tonight, I believe you revoked it, at least for this hotel." 

Sam stared at him.  "Huh?" 

"I think you cast a spell." 

At this, Sam laughed.  "I legalesed them, and they left.  Look, you can get me to believe in vampires, but you won't have me believing in magic." 

Giles regarded him curiously.  "They left?  As in, they walked out?" 

Sam faltered, and glanced down for a second.  "No.  They, uh.  They were kinda blown outside." 

"Ah."  Giles walked over to Sam, stood in front of him for a moment, and then yanked a hair off his scalp. 

"Ow!" 

"Sorry," Giles said, pulling out a lighter.  He pulled out a small vial of liquor from the minibar, popped it open, lit the hair and dropped it in the alcohol.  "Exhibete veneficium," he said, and the liquor turned from amber to a bright green.  "Well, that does it.  You cast a protection spell.  You mean to say you didn't realize it?" 

"I really, really didn't," Sam said, staring at the now-green liquid.  "My hair did that?" 

"Your magic that you don't believe in did that," Giles corrected.  He looked at Sam curiously.  "A spell of that magnitude, especially if it's done without proper procedures, should have... well, you should've felt something." 

He sat down on the bed.  "I didn't.  Is that a bad thing?" 

"It-"  Giles cut himself off, realizing he'd have to delve into a lot of backstory just to give this man any sort of answer.  "Do you know what a hellmouth is?" 

Mandy had told him this, just a day before.  He still couldn't quite believe it had only been a day since he'd found out his world was completely different.  He still couldn't quite believe that he was believing any of it.  "Uh, some sort of convergence of evil and other dimensions?" 

"Right," Giles said, seemingly not surprised at all that Sam knew even that much.  "Well, everybody has certain levels of inherent mystical abilities.  Some people inherently stray towards dark summoning arts, some deal with the elements, and others, like yourself, seem to go towards healing and protective powers.  Obviously, these different categories can, and have, intermixed-" 

"I'm sorry, but what's this all leading up to?" 

Giles had the sense to look a little bashful.  "Right.  Um, basically, a hellmouth - and there's more than one - can enhance an individual's powers.  It's one of the reason so many mystics have been drawn here in the past.  For the past few months, it's been more active than before, which might explain why you had the ability to cast the vampires out without using a written spell." 

"The hellmouth... enhanced me?" 

"Yeah."  Giles leaned against the dresser, across from Sam, and crossed his arms.  "So you've never dabbled in the arts?" 

"Not unless you figure politics for magic.  Well, okay.  There was that one time when I was twenty-two and drunk.  I tried to cast a love spell I'd found in a bookstore on Susanna Hoffs."  Off Giles' interested look, he added dryly, "It didn't work." 

Giles nodded, and turned serious again.  "Look, there's another reason I wanted to talk to you, beyond the need to find out what your intentions are.  I think I saw your name mentioned in that book those two were trying to get back." 

"Hey, I was meaning to ask you about that," Sam said.  "Did one of those guys say he was an angel?" 

"Yes."  He glanced at Sam as he flipped through the book.  "Don't believe him.  He's always been a little off." 

"So you do know him?" 

"Just casually.  But I know enough to know that friend of his is going to have his hands full with him tonight."  He scanned a page near the middle of the book.  "Here we are.  You're in a prophecy." 

"Oh," was all Sam could say. 

"Yeah."  He peered closer.  "Apparently, you save a goat." 

"Lucky goat, I suppose."  He stood up abruptly.  "Listen.  This is great, really.  And I'll buy into vampires, and magic, and all the stuff that goes along with it, but prophecies?  About goats?" 

"I assure you, prophecies are quite real," Giles said.  "Although, the bit about goats is rather... I don't suppose there are many goats in politics, are there?" 

Sam suddenly thought back to the e-mail he'd gotten from Will about the goat that had temporarily taken up residence in his office.  "Sure, we'll go with that." 

If Giles thought that answer was odd, he kept it to himself.  "I know this is a lot to take in-" 

"How long did it take you?" 

"Pardon?" 

"You say it's a lot to take in, and you're right," Sam said.  "But how did you take it?" 

Giles paused before giving his answer, as if he were having trouble with the words themselves.  "I grew up with it."  He swallowed and glanced down at the book before closing it, and when he looked back up, his eyes were focused on the door instead of Sam.  "It's a lot to take in, but I must ask you to leave, and never, never come back.  It's too dangerous for someone who doesn't know what they're doing." 

"Yeah, but-"  Sam stared out the window.  "But how is it dangerous?  I mean, aside from the vampires and, and the magic, or whatever.  People live here, they have lives here.  If everyone here knew what they were doing, it'd be damn hard to keep the secrets of this town secret." 

"People are leaving," Giles said.  "Slowly but surely - did you see many people earlier today, when you were outside?  It's never been this quiet.  I wouldn't be surprised if this place were completely deserted two or three weeks from now.  There's-"  He stopped himself and pinched the bridge of his nose.  "Just go.  It's safer." 

"There's what?"  Sam stood up, and took a step towards Giles.  "There's what?  What's happening?" 

Giles stared him in the eyes, and he forced himself not to take a step back.  "There's a battle coming," he said.  "Against the root of all evil.  This is the worst fight we've ever been in.  Even if the world survives, chances are Sunnydale won't." 

Sam chose to focus on the minor.  "Um.  'We?'" 

[-----] 

"We don't even know who took it," Xander said, poking the tip of his pen into the kitchen counter.  "How do we know where to look?" 

Vaguely, sounds from the living room filtered in: Andrew was on Willow's laptop, apparently telling the various potentials what their names meant according to some website.  "We've canvassed the city," Kennedy said, leaning against Willow.  She glared at the kitchen floor. 

"You wouldn't happen to have some sort of locator beacon on that thing that you haven't told us about, do you?" Buffy asked. 

"I do," the Doctor said, "But I left the receiver in my other coat." 

"Could it be under the city?" Ace asked. 

"Dunno," Buffy said.  "We haven't checked there yet, so it could be.  Who would want to steal a spaceship in the hellmouth-"  She stopped abruptly.  "Well, that was a dumb question I'm not gonna finish asking." 

"Uh, Buff, you pretty much finished asking it anyway," Xander said helpfully.  "Tomorrow, I could take a few potentials out, we could look through the sewers.  It'd be a good way to get 'em all oriented down there." 

"Or we could cast a locator spell," Andrew said.  They all turned to look at him, and he shrank under their gazes.  "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop - I just came in for some juice.  B-but, I mean, couldn't we cast a spell?  Even though it's kinda an inanimate object?" 

"We could," Willow said slowly.  "We'd need something of it's, though." 

"I have the key," the Doctor said.  "Would that be enough?" 

Through the uneasy atmosphere (and he was positive he was the cause of that unease), Andrew picked up on Willow's hesitance.  Glancing at his hands, he said, "I could cast it with that.  Jonathon taught me a variation on the person-locator spell that works with little things, like keys and remote controls.  The, the TARDIS is way big, but if I concentrate enough, I think I could do it." 

Willow smiled at him.  "I'll get the supplies." 

Kennedy crossed her arms as Willow left the kitchen.  "Hey, were you looking up name meanings out there?" 

"Yeah," he answered eagerly.  "Want me to look up yours?" 

When Willow came back downstairs, she saw Andrew looking at the computer screen in utter dismay, and Kennedy holding her head with a look of abject horror on her face.  She rushed to Kennedy's side.  "Sweetie, what's wrong?" 

Kennedy looked at her with fear in her eyes.  "My head's not misshapen.  Is it?" 

"No, of course not sweetie-"  Willow smacked Andrew on the shoulder.  "What did you tell her?" 

"It's the website, I swear," he whined.  "I didn't do anything!" 

Willow glared at him and unceremoniously dumped the spell necessities in his lap.  "Do the spell." 

"Fine," he huffed, taking the ingredients into the kitchen.  He cleared a space on the floor and set about preparing.  By the time he was done, most of the potentials were standing behind the Doctor, Ace, and the Scoobies, trying to get a look at what he was doing. 

"Okay, um, so show me the location, oh gods of the earth," he said.  He frowned under their glares, but the powder on the floor quickly reshaped itself into a map of Sunnydale, with a glowing spot on the Pacific edge.  "Huh." 

"It's in the water," Buffy said.  "God, I hope it's on a boat, 'cause I'm not feeling the potential deep sea exploration here." 

"Can the TARDIS even survive under water?" Ace asked. 

"I've never thought to check," the Doctor answered dryly.  "No matter.  If someone could show us there, we'll be on our way." 

"Sure," Buffy said.  "Kennedy, Rona, you guys can-" 

"Hey," Xander said.  "Shouldn't we be sending a bigger group?"  When he saw their confused look, he added, "I mean, who're we guessing took it?  Nobody good, right?  And if I were nobody good, what would I do if I knew a time machine was in Sunnydale?" 

"Oh," Willow said.  "Point." 

Buffy frowned.  "Okay.  Xander, Willow, Dawn, grab some weapons.  Get some for the Doctor and Ace too.  I'll go get Spike." 

The drive to the piers was quick, and when they got there, they saw that the piers were loaded down with boats.  "Guess it's not underwater," Ace murmured. 

"But it's on a boat," Dawn said, with only the slightest fear tainting her voice.  "That's floating, on water." 

Buffy threw her sister a glance that was half-sympathetic, half-amused.  "C'mon, Dawn, you can stand guard outside if you want." 

"Yeah," she said.  "I can do that." 

The others went to the ship closest to the location Andrew had come up with.  It wasn't exactly decrepit, but it wasn't quite the QE2, either.  The deckplates creaked ominously as they clambered onboard, alerting someone who'd been waiting in the shadows. 

It was a Bringer.  He was followed by about half a dozen more.  The Scoobies quickly launched an attack, taking down all but one of the scar-faced minions.  Buffy made to run after him, but the Doctor grabbed her shoulder and shook his head. 

"There's a tripwire on that staircase he just went down," he said.  "Hit it, and you'd be blown to smithereens." 

Peering into the darkness, Buffy could barely make out the thin line.  She pulled a red-lensed pocket flashlight out of her coat, and shone it down the staircase.  There were three more such wires on the six-stepped stairs.  Carefully, the group made their way down the steps, and Buffy listened to the quiet. 

She motioned for them to go to the right, and they walked down the corridor for a minute, checking all around for traps.  There was a door leading down to the engine room, and they could hear the steady hum of the motor from behind the thick steel. 

Buffy glanced at Spike and then the Doctor, and they both nodded; they could hear the chanting over that mechanical hum.  She eased the door open, and saw a ladder leading down.  Sheathing her sword, she started sliding down, headfirst so she wouldn't drop down blind. 

From above, they could hear her getting into a fight, and then they heard her say, "Come on in, the water's fine!"  Quickly, they scrambled down the ladder, and joined her in the battle.  Again, though they were outnumbered, they managed to first keep the Bringers at bay, then kill them or scare them off. 

The TARDIS was hidden behind a large metal block, some part of the engine that was thrumming with the exertion of keeping the boat afloat; it was surrounded by a chalk circle, and placed on what looked like a stylized pentagram. 

While the others were looking at the obvious remnants of some sort of magic ritual, the Doctor confidently strode up to the TARDIS.  "The TARDIS is impervious to earth magic," he said, unlocking the door.  "There's no need to worry." 

"So you're off then?" Buffy asked. 

"Well," he replied thoughtfully.  "We'd love to be able to study the area more-" 

"He'd love it," Ace snarked.  "I'd love a vacation.  Not that you all haven't been fun, but." 

The Scoobies grinned at this.  "We get it," Willow said.  "Hey, drop by whenever you want, though." 

"We plan to," the Doctor said.  "I don't think this hellmouth of yours is documented anywhere.  I'd love to study it." 

"We'd love to smite it," Xander said cheerfully.  "But feel free to come study it before then." 

They said their goodbyes, and the TARDIS faded into another dimension.  The Sunnydale four were about to climb back up when they heard that old familiar whine; turning around, they saw the TARDIS rematerialize, just outside of the pentagram. 

After a second, the Doctor stepped out and stared at its blue exterior.  "Maybe not that impervious," he muttered. 

"What's up?" Buffy asked. 

"It seems," he said, "we can't leave this planet." 


	5. Prophecy Boy 5

**Prophecy Boy**

**by: Baked Goldfish**

**Character(s):** Sam, Leo, Mandy  
**Category(s):** Crossover/AU  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Disclaimer:** The West Wing is NBC's. Buffy The Vampire Slayer is Fox's. Doctor Who is, um, someone's, possibly the BBC's. Good Omens is Terry Pratchett's and Neil Gaiman's. None of this is mine, I'm not making any money on this, please don't sue me.  
**Summary:** Where is Mandy Hampton? A West Wing/Good Omens/Buffy/Dr. Who Crossover.  


* * *

Meanwhile, Dawn was having a bit of a day. 

"Maybe it wasn't such a great idea to stay behind," she muttered, decapitating another vampire; she didn't even glance at it when it turned to dust.  That was the second vampire she'd killed, and three more were coming up to her.  "C'mon, guys, hurry up." 

Where her friends and sister didn't seem to be listening, the vampires certainly picked up the slack.  Two attacked her from the front while the other came up from behind.  She got one in the front, but the one behind her grabbed her before she could react; the last of the three snarled and grinned at her, intent on sucking her dry, as vampires are often wont to do. 

He never got a chance.  Dawn saw a bit of sharpened wood sticking out of the vampire's chest before he disintegrated.  The one holding her was so stunned that she was able to scrape her heel down his shin before rolling out of his hold.  She grabbed her sword and cut his head off before turning to look at her savior. 

A woman with short dark hair, and slightly skankalicious clothing, stepped out of the shadows.  "You're welcome for that, by the way," she said with a decidedly east-coast accent.  Vampire, Dawn figured, from the paleness of her skin, though one really never could know with those Atlantic-side girls.  "Been looking for you, slayer." 

Well, if Little Miss BDSM was happy with her mistake, Dawn felt no need to correct her just yet.  She stood up straighter and countered, "What, let me guess.  You're here to kill me and eat my spleen or something?" 

The vampire frowned.  "Gross.  No.  I was just wondering if you'd run into a friend of mine." 

"Oh yeah," Dawn said, as haughtily as she could.  "Probably slayed him, too." 

"Dawn," Buffy yelled from the deck of the ship.  Dawn saw the vampire frown. 

"Dawn?" she asked, mostly under her breath.  "I thought the slayer's name was Buffy." 

Dawn rolled her eyes.  "Oh, nice timing, Buffy.  I just almost died, nice of you to take your time on that one."  She noticed the Doctor and Ace were still with Buffy, climbing down to the docks.  "TARDIS a no-show?" 

"TARDIS a show, but no go," Spike said, coming down after Buffy.  "So what'cha got here-"  He stopped abruptly and stared at the other vampire.  "No." 

Mandy stared back.  "You bitch." 

"You tried to kill me," Spike growled. 

"You tried to eat me," Mandy spat back.  "And I thought I put that stake through your heart." 

"Well, you missed," Spike said. 

"Much to our dismay," Xander added.  "I'm confused.  What's going on here?" 

Spike ignored him.  "I was pulling splinters out of my chest for weeks after you, you know." 

"Good.  'Cause I was dead for weeks after you."  Mandy suddenly went into game-face, and added, "Hey, guess what?  Still am!" 

Spike turned to Buffy.  "She's a dangerous one, that bint.  Might want to slay her right away." 

"I'm not the dangerous one," Mandy said.  "He's the one with the nickname 'William the Bloody.'" 

"Yeah?" Spike countered with a look of righteous indignation on his face.   "Well, she used to be a - a politician, before she was a vampire." 

Mandy rolled her eyes.  "I was a Democrat.  Nothing wrong with that." 

Spike frowned at her.  "No wonder you tasted strange." 

"Enough," Buffy said.  She glared at Mandy.  "Who are you?  Keeping in mind I only wanna know because I wanna know who could possibly make Spike this annoyed, and after I find out, I'm gonna stake you." 

"I'm-"  She took a step back, and got out of game face.  "I'm not looking for a fight, okay?  My name's Mandy Hampton, and I'm looking for a friend.  He came here this morning." 

"Well, what does he look like?" Willow asked.  "'Cause, after we finish slaying you, we can slay him too." 

Mandy rolled her eyes.  "He's human, you douchebag.  He's \- well, you might recognize him.  Sam Seaborn?" 

"Wait," Xander said.  "As in, 'Seaborn for Congress?'" 

"Yeah, that's him," she said.  "Look, if you could just - just let him know I'm looking for him?  And before you go all slay-happy on me, lemme just say, I don't hunt humans." 

Buffy quirked an eyebrow at her.  "A vampire who doesn't hunt humans?" 

Spike leaned in and said, "There are a few.  They find human blood too common - it's like the difference between pate and onion dip." 

Xander frowned.  "I resent that.  I'm not onion dip." 

Mandy gave him the once-over.  "Well, maybe not onion." 

"Mandy," Buffy began.  "We're not a messenger service.  We're looking out for the world in general; we can't keep an eye out for every too-curious guy who decides he wants to check out the hellmouth, even if he is a politician."  She frowned.  "Especially if he's a politician." 

"Fine, whatever," Mandy said.  "But I'm telling you right now, he's a friend of the President's, and a friend of Leo McGarry, and if Leo McGarry finds out you could've prevented, I don't know, his death, and you didn't?"  She shook her head ruefully and left. 

The others stared at the spot where she had been for a moment.  Then, Xander: "Uh, question." 

"Yeah?" Willow said. 

"Who in God's name is Leo McGarry?" 

Willow shrugged.  "No idea.  So what're we gonna do about the TARDIS?" 

"I thought you said it doesn't work," Dawn said. 

"It moved, though," Ace said.  "Only about a meter, but it moved.  We could get it off the ship, right?" 

The Doctor nodded.  "Most likely.  We'd still have the problem of getting it off the planet." 

"Any idea what's causing that?" Buffy asked. 

"Not yet," the Doctor said.  "It'll take me some time to run a diagnostic on the old thing." 

"Well, how about you zap it to our back yard?  It should be safe there, and you can take whatever time you need to sort it out," Buffy offered. 

"Thank you," the Doctor said.  "I must say, considering the fact that you're preparing to face the greatest evil on earth, you're quite hospitable to a couple of complete strangers." 

"Hey, keep your friends close, and your enemies closer," Buffy said with a grin.  "I figure, if you're a friend, you're okay to stay with us, and if you're an enemy, it's easier to kill you when you're in close range." 

The Doctor's eyes went wide, and Ace tried to hide a smirk.  "Quite," he said.  "Well.  We'll meet you back at the house, then." 

"You're not gonna offer us a lift?" Xander asked. 

"I'd pass on that, if they did," Spike said.  Off the confused looks he was getting, he added, "It's not working right, yeah?  Might be a bit of fun for you to wander the galaxy in a broken time machine, but I've got some sense in me." 

"'Sides," Dawn said.  "We've got a car."  She pointed to the SUV parked a little ways away. 

The Doctor and Ace walked away, and Xander turned to Buffy.  "You're really trying to keep 'em around, aren't you?" 

She gave him a serious look.  "What I said earlier, about friends and enemies?  It's true.  Besides, if they get that thing working ... "  She glanced at the ship.  "Could be useful." 

"How?  I mean, besides the obvious, 'go back in time and destroy the seal' way?" Dawn asked. 

Buffy frowned as they loaded up into the SUV.  "Did Giles tell you what he and Anya found out when they went to that oracle thing?"  They shook their heads.  "Well, it could - help.  With that." 

Spike looked at the gathered lot, and then peered at Buffy.  "I don't think we get it.  Care to explain?" 

She turned the engine, her mouth set in a thin line.  "Later, Spike." 

[-----] 

As the door to the TARDIS shut, Ace asked, "Professor?  What, exactly, is wrong with the TARDIS?" 

He was bustling around the instrument panel, but he glanced at her, somewhat contritely.  "Absolutely nothing." 

She shook her head, though a smirk was playing on her lips.  "Remind me to leave the area before they find out you just played them." 

"Oh, where's your sense of adventure?" he chided.  The TARDIS started up with a whine, on its way to the Summers' backyard.  "We are faced with the opportunity to study the rarely seen event of a 'hellmouth,' as the natives call it, an event where all the multitudes of dimensions come together, and in California, no less!"  He stood up abruptly, a frown on his face.  "Do you know, I'd never been to California before now?" 

"I didn't know," Ace said, obviously humoring him as he bent over his instruments again.  "So tell me.  What're we studying about the hellmouth?" 

He shrugged.  "I'm still not sure.  I can assure you, however, that whatever it is'll completely knock your socks off." 

"Different dimensions," Ace said.  "Does time travel differently?" 

"Of course, different dark matter affects the speed of light, different speeds of light indirectly affect-"  He frowned again, and looked at her.  "Of course." 

"So a hole between dimensions would, or could, affect the passage of time in any of those dimensions... " 

His gaze turned inward as they rematerialized on the slayer's back lawn.  "I suppose the question now is, how badly?" 

[-----] 

"Remember," Giles said as the early morning sun reflected off the dashboard.  "Let me introduce you before you start talking.  It'll lessen the chance of them wanting to kill you." 

"The chance of them wanting to what me?" 

"Kill you."  He turned the car off and critically eyed Sam.  "But probably not by much." 

Sam stared at the house Giles had pulled up to.  It was normal looking, Sam thought, with a normal porch and normal windows and even a normal driveway.  "Remind me again why I'm here?" 

"You mentioned you read Latin," Giles said.  "We've got more texts than we know what to do with, and, well, some of them are in fact in Latin.  Also, there's that matter of you and the goat." 

"The goat," Sam said, getting out of the rental car.  "Right." 

Giles smirked and asked, "You don't understand why it's so important for you to save the goat, do you?" 

"Not really." 

The normal door to the normal house opened at their approach, and Sam stopped short at the sight of a young blond man wearing a flowered apron, oven mitts, and clothes that looked like they were straight out of Super Villain Quarterly.  "If you're expecting breakfast," the young man said a bit testily, "you're about an hour too late.  Apparently, potential slayers just love my sausage and eggs." 

Sam nervously glanced at Giles, who looked just as befuddled as Sam did.   "That's... fine, Andrew," Giles said.  "Is Buffy in?" 

"Yep.  But I think she's still sleeping.  Last night, she took a group out with the Doc-"  Andrew gave Sam a wary glance.  "-Martens representative.  To, um, go look at some nice boots.  It took a while." 

Giles managed once more to pull off that Leo-look that Sam was so used to, combining confused with annoyed and adding a casual glare just for kicks.  "Right.  Um.  Move." 

Andrew had the good grace to look a little bashful as he moved out of the doorway, though he did give Sam a curious look.  "I don't think he likes me much," Sam said under his breath. 

"It's all right," Giles replied, just as quiet.  "Nobody really likes him, either." 

"Giles!" 

Sam looked up to see a dark-haired girl bounding down the stairs towards Giles.  Glancing around, he noticed that there seemed to be a great many young girls coming towards Giles.  He frowned.  Giles had said that there were a number of "young women" involved in whatever this was; Sam had assumed that had meant something closer to grad students than high schoolers. 

"Please tell me you brought food," the first girl said.  "I'm starving." 

"Hey," Andrew said indignantly.  "I'm gonna make breakfast, just gimme a minute." 

Sam's frown deepened, and he asked, "Didn't you say you already made breakfast?" 

Andrew turned to look at him in confusion.  "Huh?" 

"Earlier, when we came in, you said we were too late for-"  Andrew was still looking at him in complete confusion.  "Never mind," Sam mumbled. 

"Wait, who are you?" the dark-haired girl asked.  "You look kind of familiar." 

"He's someone who's no good at following directions," Giles sighed.  "Dawn, go get the others, would you?" 

"I only talked a little," Sam said.  Giles glared at him again, and Sam added, "That look's really not getting you any points with me." 

"And you're not scoring any points with them," Giles muttered.  "Which is what really matters here." 

"Look," Sam said, pulling Giles aside.  "Didn't that guy say he'd already made breakfast?" 

Giles frowned in confusion.  "Pardon?" 

"Andrew.  He said that we were too late for breakfast, because the sausage and eggs had already been eaten." 

Giles shook his head, and it looked to Sam as if Giles were trying to translate what he'd said out of Sanskrit.  "No, he - I'm not sure what you're saying," he said. 

Sam frowned, and glanced at the clock on the wall; it was earlier now than it had been ten minutes ago.  "I'm not too sure either," he murmured as a multitude of young adults gathered around. 

"Hey, I know you," one of them said - the only other male, it seemed, besides Andrew and Giles.  "Sam Seaborn, right?  I woulda voted for you, but I got a little caught up in stopping an apocalypse.  Xander Harris."  He held his hand out. 

Sam took his hand and shook it.  "Well, I gotta say - if that's why more people aren't voting, I'm not gonna complain." 

"It's really no excuse," one of the young women said.  She'd just come in the house, and was carrying a box of donuts, which was quickly descended upon by a horde of hungry girls. 

Xander looked at her like a teacher would look at a smart-mouthed child.  "Anya-" 

"No, really," she interrupted.  "I mean, I'm part of the whole, 'stop the apocalypse,' movement too, but I voted.  Is it really that difficult to take a few minutes out of the day to put down the stake and go to the voting booth?" 

Xander's annoyance grew, and he said, "Well, when some of us are recovering from massive stab wounds-" 

Giles leaned towards Sam and said, "I'm sorry about this.  Anya's not exactly the most tactful person in the world, and Xander's rather . . . well.  There's really no way to explain him." 

"It's okay," Sam murmured back.  "Actually, they remind me of a couple I know." 

Giles' face took on a pallor that could not have been faked.  "You mean there are more people in the world like them?" 

"And there's a good possibility they might breed," Sam replied. 

"Anyway," Anya said, finishing up a long-winded, but mostly ignored speech, "it's our civic duty.  If we don't vote, well, we just won't have a country worth saving, is what I say."  She plucked a donut out of the box and smiled, satisfied. 

"That's a great point," Sam said, a smile tugging the corners of his mouth. 

She looked at him as if she'd just noticed him.  "Oh, I didn't vote for you.  Democrats are notoriously anti-capitalism."  She took a bite out of her donut and nodded emphatically before wandering off. 

Sam threw his hands in the air in frustration, and Giles said, "Since we all seem to know, or will soon know through word of mouth, who our visitor is, can we get some work done?  And please, wash your hands before touching the books.  The last thing we need is a bit of fried dough destroying a fragile page detailing how to defeat the First in six easy steps. 

"And you," he said, looking at Sam.  "I've got some books for you.  Come on." 

[-----] 

Mandy pulled herself out of the sewers and clambered to her feet inside Willy's Alibi Room. 

The blood she ordered was thick, coagulating, and sickeningly room-temperature.  She sipped at it anyway as she slid into a booth; she hadn't come there for a good glass of O-neg to begin with.  Two booths down - and she noticed that this place, like most other demon-human bars, was comprised mainly of booths - a few other vampires were sitting down for a bit of breakfast. 

One skill that had served her well in Washington was the art of listening.  For years, she'd gotten her main information by walking into a coffee shop or diner, ordering whatever they were serving at the time, and sitting down a table or two away from Congressional aides or lobbyists. 

Now, she found herself brooding over cooling blood, waiting for the inevitable bitch-session to begin at the other vamps' table. 

"She totally kicked me out of her crypt," the first vamp, the one with the scruffiest beard she'd ever seen, said.  "I don't get it.  I mean, I even got her the heart of a kindergartener to make up for it \- what else does she want from me?  I'm only human." 

The one who was trying to be punk frowned at him.  "No you're not." 

Scruffy thought about it for a moment.  "Okay, true," he said.  "But I'm still, you know.  I was sorry.  There was no need to throw me out onto the street, especially during the day." 

"Man, you wanna talk about getting kicked out?" Poser asked.  "There's this guy down at the Ramada who got rid of our invite.  Completely blasted me and my mates outside." 

"Who was it?" Scruffy asked. 

"I dunno, some pretty-boy type.  Dark hair, blue eyes, kinda cute," Poser said.  "Said something about contracts and stuff, and then bam.  We were outside." 

Mandy hid her surprise behind the glass of blood, and listened some more; the vampire's description could have fit half the white male thirtysomethings in the state, but something in the back of her mind kept telling her it was Sam. 

Except Sam had never cast spells, to her knowledge. 

The vamps were back to discussing Scruffy's sad, sad lack of marital bliss, so Mandy downed the rest of her blood and left for the sewers. 

"You're still here?" 

She'd barely taken three steps from the bar when she heard that familiar voice.  "Haven't found my friend," she said, turning around to face him. 

Spike nodded and said, "Well, I'm sure Buffy's out looking for him, so you can run along and get out of town." 

"Yeah, I'm sure your precious slayer's gonna take requests from a vampire," she snarked. 

"She takes mine." 

She smirked at him.  "She's got you so pussywhipped you think she takes 'em, but it's the other way around, buddy." 

He stood up taller at that.  "And so what if I am?  It's not a bad gig.  Things are different, I've got a soul now." 

"Yeah, I pretty much picked up on that," she muttered.  "And that matters, why?  You think Hitler lacked a soul?  Pol Pot?  Ensouled does not always equal good, and you know that." 

Spike's whole demeanor shifted subtly; everything became calmer, less cynical.  "It makes me good," he said. 

"Does it?" Mandy asked.  She took a step towards him, invading his personal space.  "All the time?  You sure that little conscience of yours hasn't opened up a... weak spot?" 

His calm bearing got suddenly nervous.  "How'd you know about that?" 

Taking a step back, she slowly smiled.  "I didn't," she said.  "What is it, hesitation?  Can't kill when needed?" 

"I've got a stake up my sleeve right now," he ground out.  "Care to test that last theory?" 

If it's not hesitation, she thought.  "There's something going on here.  Some force, some presence.  God, it even gives me the heeby-jeebies."  She grinned.  "It's using you, isn't it?  Got a collar 'round your neck.  Oh, you better get that fixed before your little slayer gets it fixed for you." 

"It's not controlling me," he said, defiant.  "And if it started controlling me, I'd leave." 

She shrugged and backed off.  "You keep telling yourself that.  I've got a boy wonder to find." 

"Why are you so bent on saving his ass, anyway?  You gonna turn him?" 

"How about no," she said, scowling.  "Trust me.  Sam?  Would not make a great vampire." 

"Then why are you here?" 

She mulled over that for a moment before saying, "I've always liked to keep up with winners." 

"I thought he lost that election of his." 

"That's not what I was talking about."  She left. 

Spike waited until she was out of earshot.  "Of all the mistakes I have to repent." 

[-----] 

"Mm."  Giles pulled the pencil out of his mouth and put his book on the only clear spot on the dining room table.  "Right there." 

"What's it say?" Xander asked. 

"The seal can still be opened," Giles said.  "In the same way it had been opened before, in fact." 

"Wait, didn't you say someone closed it?  Andrew and Buffy, right?" Sam asked. 

"Yes, but it was only a temporary fix."  Giles flipped the page.  "Look there." 

Sam peered at the text.  "That's in Hindi." 

Giles glanced disapprovingly at him.  "Sanskrit, actually.  As long as the First can get rich enough blood over the seal, it will open.  If it opens, hell will be brought forth." 

Sam stared at him blankly.  "'Hell will be brought forth'?" 

"He talks like that sometimes," Xander said, rolling his eyes.  "Sometimes, he just can't help being all British-like." 

"The point is, it wasn't a permanent fix," Giles said with a scowl. 

Sam snapped his fingers.  "This is where the goat comes in." 

"Exactly.  Xander, does the Sunnydale Zoo have-" 

"Not since the hyenas," he answered.  "And I called everywhere else that might have one - they've already evacuated." 

"Could be symbolic," Sam said, reaching for the Prophecies.  "I mean, did what's-her-name actually say the sacrifice had to be hooved and horned?" 

Kennedy thought for a moment.  "Goats - Capricorn?  Someone who's a Capricorn?  That'd be a January birthday, right?" 

Giles paled immediately.  "Where's Buffy?" 

"Here's Buffy," she said, walking into the dining room.  Her gaze settled on Sam.  "Who's this?" 

"I - wow, you guys really don't watch TV here, do you?" 

Anya looked up from her book just long enough to say, "Democrats are such sore losers." 

"Oh," Buffy said, recognition dawning.  "Sorry.  I think I meant to vote for you." 

Sam nodded and forced a tight smile on his face. 

Buffy kind of smiled and didn't quite meet his eyes.  She turned to Giles.  "So.  What's new?" 

"Agnes Nutter's prophecy might concern you," Giles said.  "More specifically, it might concern your death." 

"My death."  She frowned.  "Again?" 

"This is no laughing matter," he chided.  "There's reference that the seal can be reopened, the Nutter prophecy refers to, to the bleeding of a goat, and you're a Capricorn." 

"So all we gotta do is keep the slayer from the hellmouth," she muttered.  She shook her head.  "No can do, Giles.  We can't take that risk." 

"I understand," he said, pulling off his glasses so he could rub his eyes.  "But you must be careful, at least until we've figured out whether or not this prophecy relates to you." 

"Fine," Buffy said.  "Are there any other Capricorns with us?" 

Xander glanced at Anya and Kennedy and said, "The potentials are kinda spread around.  We'll go find out." 

Buffy nodded.  "Anyone know where Spike is?" 

"He came in a few minutes ago, and headed straight for the TARDIS," Sam said. 

"Could you go get him for me?"  Sam left and Buffy turned to Giles.  The room was cleared out now, except for them.  "I know you don't trust Spike, but if I have to scale back my activities, I need to put him up front." 

Giles chuckled without humor.  "Of course I don't trust him.  He's still under the First's control.  You really want to put him in the forefront of this battle?" 

"He hasn't been triggered for weeks, and he's my best fighter.  Who else will I put up there?" she hissed. 

"Xander?  Willow?  They've fought by your side for years-" 

"Willow's not ready," she interrupted.  "And I need Xander thinking way more than I need him fighting right now." 

Giles glared at her.  "How do you know his trigger won't activate?  How do you know this decision won't facilitate the reopening of the hellmouth?" 

"I don't."  She glared back, giving him a look that brooked no further argument.  "Giles, when this all started, you told me I had to lead.  Well, here I am, leading.  This is my decision, so let me make it." 

He cleaned his glasses on the bottom of his shirt before he put them back on.  "You're right," he said, though he was obviously still frustrated by her choice.  "But Buffy, if this backfires-" 

"It won't," she said.  "And if it does, we'll fix it." 

Giles gave her a tiny half-smile.  "I trust that." 

She smiled back for a moment.  "I know.  I just need you to remember this is my fight." 

He looked at her, perplexed.  "Our fight," he corrected. 

Buffy shook her head.  "Remember what that oracle said?  Beljoxa's Eye or whatever?" 

Giles was even more confused.  He frowned and said, "Buffy, I'm not sure what-" 

"Um, excuse me," Sam said, cautiously entering the room as Spike brushed past him.  "Those associates of yours are in the backyard." 

Giles turned his confused look on Sam.  "Associates?" 

"The ones you got the book from," Sam clarified. 

"Having a grand old time with the Doctor," Spike said. 

Giles' frown turned into an all-out scowl.  "They followed me here," he muttered, stalking out to the back yard. 

[-----] 

"Jump the fence." 

"I'm not jumping the fence." 

"Jump it and open the gate for me." 

Crowley glared at Aziraphale.  "You jump the fence and open it for me.  Better yet, leave the hellmouth." 

"I can't.  I have this feeling-" 

"-it's the evil infecting your soul," Crowley interrupted.  "Trust me, the stinging stops after a little while.  Actually, some come to like it." 

"Quiet.  I have this feeling about the book.  And the people using it.  They might not be altogether evil." 

Crowley gave him A Look.  "The fact that they fight vampires didn't clue you into that?" 

Aziraphale scowled and jumped the fence. 

After the angel had taken a few steps into the backyard, Crowley hissed, "You're not going to open it for me?" 

"I'm still not talking to you - oh."  Aziraphale stopped and stared at the blue police box standing in one corner of the yard.  "Haven't seen one of these since... " 

"Since you decided to try out the flu years and years ago, and ended up sneezing them out of existence?" Crowley finished dryly. 

"That was a mistake," Aziraphale huffed. 

"And so's this," Crowley said.  He clambered ungracefully over the fence, carefully keeping his trousers from catching on the chain link.  "Look, you can be a bastard sometimes, and I really like that about you.  But I haven't seen you this bad since - well, since the war, and that was near six thousand years ago." 

"Does this look familiar to you?" Aziraphale snapped as he pointed to the police box. 

"It looks like any other - wait."  Crowley walked over to it and knocked on its door.  "Anyone home?" 

The door opened a few moments later, and the Doctor said, "Honestly, you'd think there'd be some meaning to the phrase, 'peaceful American suburb' \- oh my." 

"Doctor," Crowley said with a smile as Aziraphale continued to scowl.  "Lovely to see you here." 

The Doctor smiled back.  "You don't actually mean that." 

"You always could read me like a book.  Um, you wouldn't mind if I stuck the angel here in your zero room, would you?" Crowley asked.  "Hellmouths aren't good for the holy, you understand." 

"Unfortunately, I jettisoned the whole thing a few years ago," the Doctor said. 

"Hey." 

They all looked in the direction of the sound, which was coming from the Summers home.  Sam was standing at the door, staring at the angel and demon. 

"What are you doing here?" Aziraphale asked. 

Sam frowned.  "What do you mean, what am I doing here?  What are you doing here?"  He glanced at the Doctor and added, "Oh, and is Spike in there?  Buffy'd like to see him." 

As the Doctor called for Spike, Crowley started tugging on Aziraphale's arm.  "Come on, angel, we've bothered the humans long enough.  The book's here and fine, so let's go.  I hear Vegas is nice this time of year." 

"You followed us, didn't you?" Sam asked.  "Why?" 

"I followed you?" Aziraphale blustered. 

"You really, really did," Crowley muttered. 

The Doctor rolled his eyes, though nobody noticed.  Tapping the angel on the shoulder, he said, "Perhaps you'd like to come in for some cocoa.  We've got a lot to catch up on, haven't we?"  Aziraphale scowled some more, but brushed past him and entered the TARDIS.  Spike ran past them, smoking a little bit in the mid-afternoon sun.  Sam held the door open for him, wondering how it was already mid-afternoon.  The Doctor gave Crowley the evil eye before going back in and shutting the door. 

Crowley stared at the TARDIS for a moment.  "Well, that was rude." 

Sam took a deep breath to clear his thoughts.  Though he'd been going along with what everyone had told him, he still felt slightly numb at the way his entire understanding of the world had been, once again, turned upside down.  Prophecies, magic, his former coworker was a vampire - and on top of that, the jagged passage of time in this town left him feeling utterly jet-lagged, and he hadn't been on a plane in months. 

His thoughts still weren't clear.  He turned around and followed after Spike. 

[-----] 

As Giles left the dining room, Sam followed him.  Buffy had given him a fairly cross look, and Spike had looked at him like he shouldn't have ever existed.  Giles didn't seem to mind his company, and the girls in the rest of the house seemed to be much friendlier to him than Buffy was. 

"I gotta say, while I get that you guys have been saving the world since 1997, I don't know how you manage with so little sleep," Sam said. 

"Tired already?" Giles asked with some confusion.  "It's only ten in the morning." 

Sam glanced at his watch; Giles was right.  The last time he'd checked the time, it was quarter past one.  "Guess it must be the culture shock," he mumbled. 

"Perhaps - damn." 

"What?" 

"I left the book in the dining room." 

Before Sam could offer up any sort of response, the kitchen door exploded in at them. 


	6. Prophecy Boy 6

**Prophecy Boy**

**by: Baked Goldfish**

**Character(s):** Sam, Leo, Mandy  
**Category(s):** Crossover/AU  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Disclaimer:** The West Wing is NBC's. Buffy The Vampire Slayer is Fox's. Doctor Who is, um, someone's, possibly the BBC's. Good Omens is Terry Pratchett's and Neil Gaiman's. None of this is mine, I'm not making any money on this, please don't sue me.  
**Summary:** Where is Mandy Hampton? A West Wing/Good Omens/Buffy/Dr. Who Crossover.  


* * *

"What was that?"  Buffy ran to the kitchen to see Sam and Giles fighting off a group of Bringers. 

Another crash came from the living room.  Spike said, "Daytime attack," before bolting to the weapons chest. 

Buffy grabbed a cleaver and started hacking at the Bringers.  "Giles, they're after the girls." 

"They're after - ow - you," he grunted, beating one Bringer with a rolling pin.  "But you're right - we should get them to safety." 

Weaponless, Sam frantically looked around the kitchen for something to defend himself with.  He grabbed a frying pan and whacked a Bringer on the head.  Being an ultra-thin Teflon pan designed for the modern kitchen and not the campfire, said pan didn't do very much.  If the Bringer had had eyes, Sam was sure he'd be staring at Sam in utter confusion.  "I'll go get them," Sam chirped, ducking out of the way. 

Spike, Dawn, and a few of the older potentials were fighting off more Bringers in the living room.  "Get 'em into the big blue thing in the backyard!" Spike yelled through gritted teeth as Sam started rounding them up.  Sam saw, out of the corner of his eye, Crowley and Aziraphale coming inside. 

"What's happening?" Aziraphale asked. 

Sam glared at him. 

"Oh.  Fighting evil.  Right." 

Sam pushed a Bringer away from him and said, "Help me get these girls into the big blue thing in the backyard." 

[-----] 

"Giles, clear the door." 

Giles threw a Bringer away from the door and onto Buffy's knife.  "Clear."  He saw Sam come back into the kitchen, with the bookshop owner and his creepy friend trailing behind.  Girls spilled through after them, fleeing to the TARDIS as the five adults held off the Bringers in the kitchen; absently, he heard the sounds of Spike, Xander, Robin, Willow, and Anya fighting elsewhere in the house. 

Soon, all but Giles, Buffy, Sam, and Crowley were in the house, fighting off the last of the Bringers as the Doctor and Ace kept the TARDIS safe from attack.  The brawling spilled into the backyard as they headed for the safety of the time machine, but Sam saw one of the Bringers still in the house, rifling through the texts on the kitchen counter.  The Bringer disappeared into the kitchen, and he moved to follow it.  "Giles, the book!" 

Shoulder down, Giles barreled through the ever-growing mass of Bringers, yelling, "Don't let them take it!" 

When Buffy tried to follow, Crowley grabbed her with unnatural strength, pulling her into the TARDIS.  "Come along, let the men take care of things." 

"The what?!"  When she realized he'd just said that to throw her off-guard and get her inside the TARDIS, it was too late - the Doctor had shut the door behind her.  "Wait, no, Giles is still out there-" 

"Look at your people," the Doctor snapped.  "They can't fight anymore.  They need time to rest."  Potentials were crowding the control room, covered in bruises and cuts; the ones who spilled out into the corridors of the TARDIS were much in the same shape.  Willow caught Buffy's eyes, and looked at her apologetically as she nursed what seemed to be a sprained wrist. 

"We can't just leave them out there," she said vehemently.  "I've got to go help-" 

"Fine, go help," the Doctor spat.  "And when you get killed, who will lead your stalwart crew?" 

The room was completely silent as the two stared at each other.  When it looked like they were about to kill each other, Andrew stepped up cautiously.  "Um, excuse me.  But doesn't the TARDIS have a viewscreen?"  They turned their glares on him, and he shrank back slightly but continued: "I mean, couldn't we see how they were doing, and when there's an opening, let them in?  I don't want Mr. Giles to get hurt either.  Or that other guy." 

The Doctor's glare softened into sheepishness as he turned the viewer on.  One hand on the door mechanism, he looked at the screen as the shade raised. 

The backyard was completely empty. 

[-----] 

Sam woke up with a pounding headache.  The world seemed to be jumping up and down and yelling at him.  Groaning, he tried to rub his eyes, only to find out his hands were bound behind his back.  Then he realized that it wasn't the world jumping up so much as it was a van going down a particularly bumpy road. 

"See, I said I'd fix these potholes if I were elected, but did anybody vote for me?  Of course not," he muttered, struggling to sit up.  "We love our evil Satan potholes here in Orange County."  Squinting to clear his eyes, he saw that the seats had been removed from the back of the van, and the windows had been painted over.  Giles was across from him, lying on his side, his hands also tied behind him.  Sam nudged him with the toe of his shoe.  "Hey." 

"Nuh," Giles grunted as he startled awake.  He blinked blearily, swallowed, and looked around.  His eyes settled on the rearview mirror, and he frowned.  "I say, should he really be driving?" 

Sam followed Giles' line of sight.  Two rune-branded, closed eyelids reflected back at him.  "That's... new.  And, you know what, inspiring, in a way." 

"What?" 

"I've found it's best to try and always look at the positive." 

Giles glared at him.  "I've got a hunch that we're going being taken to the opening of the hellmouth to be bled dry in order to unleash an army of Turok-Han upon the earth, which will lead to the destruction of all of humanity.  Point out the positive for me." 

Sam slumped against the van door. 

[-----] 

Xander was the first one out of the TARDIS.  He ran into the house.  "Giles!" 

Spike ran in after him, smoking slightly from the momentary exposure to the sun.  He took in the empty countertop and dining room table and said, "I don't think they're here." 

"Why not?" 

"None of Rupert's books are here," Spike said, motioning to the lack of old texts.  "Bringers took 'em.  I'm betting they took him and the politician, too." 

"God."  Xander ran his hands through his hair as Willow went to stand beside him.  "Where's Buffy?" 

[-----] 

"We should help." 

The Doctor looked up at Ace.  His control panel was bleating furiously at him as the last of the potential slayers filed out.  "Agreed, but I'm not sure how we can." 

"If we can figure out where they took 'em, we can just beam right in with the whole group and take those creeps out," Ace said, her enthusiasm growing quickly. 

"One, it could be a trap of some sort," the Doctor muttered.  "And two, I'm not sure if I could get this bloody machine to work that well so close to a time-space distortion of this magnitude."  He shut the door. 

"You'll get it to work." 

Ace and the Doctor both started at the sound, and looked at what they'd thought was the empty corridor leading from the TARDIS control room.  Buffy stood in the doorway, a bloody meat cleaver in one hand and a cold gleam in her eyes.  "I figured out how to beat the First, and you're gonna help me." 

"You don't understand, the TARDIS isn't safe so close to-"  He stopped and stared at her.  "You can't understand.  What time is it?" 

The coldness in her eyes faltered slightly as she frowned in confusion.  "Eleven o'clock." 

"No, it was two in the afternoon a few minutes ago," Ace said. 

The confusion on Buffy's face was quickly replaced by hardness.  "Look, I don't know what you're talking about, but whatever.  You're gonna help me." 

The Doctor took one look at the way her fingers curled around the handle of the cleaver, and gulped.  "How?" 

"Set this thing to go back in time.  Set it for May, 1997." 

[-----] 

"She's in the house," Dawn said.  "She probably went to make sure there weren't any Bringers upstairs." 

"I was just up there, she's not here," Andrew said, skidding into the room. 

Xander yanked the back door open.  "So she' still in the - whoa."  The TARDIS was gone, the grass where it had stood not even crushed from its weight.  "Guess who else isn't here?" 

Spike was about to say something when he spotted two men trying to sneak out of the house.  He grabbed both of them by the backs of their shirts and pulled them into a pair of chairs.  "And who might you be?" 

"Friends of Mr. Giles," Crowley said.  "We came to talk to him about - well, you see, this man here-" 

"Hang on," Spike said, staring at them.  His eyes widened and he jabbed a finger at the angel's chest.  "Listen, I've got a soul, don't you try anything funny with me." 

"Who are they?" Willow asked, staring at them in apprehension. 

"One with the shades is a demon, Crowley I think," he said.  "Lesser duke of hell, if I remember my royals right.  The foppish librarian type's an angel." 

"I am neither foppish nor a librarian," Aziraphale mumbled.  "Ignorant blood rat." 

"Let it go, angel," Crowley replied.  "Look, shouldn't we be looking for your friends?  That Buffy of yours obviously went with the Doctor somewhere - maybe she figured out where Mr. Giles was taken." 

"Maybe they just managed to run away," Dawn said, only half-believing her words. 

Anya shook her head.  "The Bringers are gone too.  I think Giles was the target.  Or possibly that Democrat was.  Hey!  He could've been some sort of mole." 

Xander deflated.  "Wouldn't be the first time we've met an evil politician.  But where would they go?" 

Suddenly, Andrew's eyes went wide.  "What was that prophecy?" 

"Something about a goat," Dawn said.  "A goat would be bled, and hell would be unleashed.  But they don't have a-" 

"They might," he said, opening the laptop and waiting for it to connect to the internet.  "God, I hate dialup... you guys remember when I was looking up name meanings?"  He typed in a URL and waited for the page to load. 

Xander frowned.  "Yeah, but what - oh, don't tell me." 

"Giles," Aziraphale said.  "From the root aegis. 

"Which means skin of the goat," Andrew said, pointing to the screen.  "Or even just 'of the goat.'" 

Aziraphale groaned.  "Nutter must have misconstrued the vision." 

"Then we know where they are," Willow said.  "The Seal.  We can still-" 

A scream came from the living room, followed by the crash of body against coffee table.  "More Bringers," Spike said, grabbing the turkey baster. 

Xander reached for a knife and asked, "And you're gonna turn 'em into a juicy, delectable Thanksgiving feast?" 

Frowning, Spike dropped the baster and picked up the rolling pin.  "Come on." 

With a few exceptions, the potentials were in no way holding their own.  Xander, Spike, Dawn, Aziraphale, and Crowley joined the fray, beating back Bringers with limited success.  Their numbers were growing as more and more Bringers teemed in from the back door. 

Suddenly, a Bringer ran up to Crowley, pulling a vial from beneath his robe.  Crowley stared at it for a moment.  "No." 

[-----] 

At knifepoint, the Doctor set the time.  "What, exactly, are you planning to do?" 

"Gonna prevent one of my friends from bringing me back to life," Buffy said.  "Look, the First Evil's only getting stronger because I came back and screwed up the balance.  I'm not letting anyone else die because of me." 

"And the people who die because you're not there?" Ace asked.  "What about them?" 

Buffy shook her head.  "There's another slayer.  I'm not completely necessary." 

"You have no idea how this will change the timeline," the Doctor said.  "It might make things worse." 

"That's a chance I'm willing to take."  The tower in the center of the control panel started going up and down.  "That was quick." 

"Well, it is a time machine."  The Doctor frowned at the readouts.  "Hang on.  This isn't right." 

Ace leaned over his shoulders.  "That says we're thousands of years in the past!" 

"Fix it," Buffy said, the line of the cleaver digging into the flesh of the Doctor's neck. 

"I didn't break it in the first place," he muttered.  He pressed a series of buttons; when that did nothing, he whacked the panel above said buttons.  "Damn and blast." 

"What?" Buffy asked. 

"In an instance such as this, I would usually say the TARDIS messed up," he said.  "However, I'm inclined to believe that's not the case here." 

"Meaning?" 

He looked her in the eyes and said, "Someone brought us here." 

She let her arm drop to her side.  "I guess we should go outside and find out who, huh?" 

[-----] 

The Bringer opened the vial and splashed its contents on Crowley's face.  The demon let out a blood-curdling scream as he fell to the ground.  Aziraphale snapped around to see what was wrong; the Bringer dropped the vial and rejoined the fight, and as he rushed to Crowley's side, Aziraphale noticed the label on the small bottle read, "Holy Water." 

The angel growled. 

Amazingly, Crowley was still alive, though in considerable pain.  Aziraphale gathered him close and glared with blindingly white eyes at the Bringers around him.  With an unearthly roar, he swept his hand out in front of him, electricity crackling between his fingers. 

All the Bringers in the house burst into flames half a second before completely disappearing.  The others stared at the empty spaces where their opponents had stood for a moment before turning almost as one to look at Aziraphale. 

He smoothed back Crowley's hair before picking him up and standing.  "Where's the hellmouth?" 

"It's dangerous for angels," Anya said, seemingly worried.  "You shouldn't go.  Also, why couldn't you just do that flashy thing before?" 

Aziraphale looked at Crowley as he finally passed out from the pain.  He could feel something feral growing inside him, that same feral thing that had first stirred when he'd set foot in Sunnydale a day ago.  He hadn't felt this way since the war between the angels.  Aziraphale could feel his ability to speak in the tongue of humans wavering, slowly but surely.  "I think - the hellmouth, it's - it's why he's not gone.  Need to take him there, to heal." 

Xander took his ex-fiancee's worry seriously.  "We need to get there too," he said.  "Let us take him.  If it's dangerous for you-" 

"He's faster," Spike interrupted.  He pointed in the direction of the high school.  "It's that way.  Just look for the wonder of modern public school architecture, you can't miss it." 

Aziraphale walked out, brushing against potentials with wings he didn't quite realize he was showing, and flew off. 

Xander ran a hand over his face and started passing out weapons.  "Anya, get the car started.  We gotta get moving, or we'll be late for school." 

[-----] 

Sam stumbled as another blind minion pulled him out of the van.  He squinted at the sudden brightness, and took in his surroundings.  "The hellmouth's in a school?" 

"Under the principal's office," Giles said as he, too, got dragged out. 

"You wouldn't happen to know if there's one in DC, would you?" 

"As a matter of fact, there-" 

He was cut off by a swift punch to the gut; it wasn't painful so much as it was startling, but it served to shut him up nonetheless.  Glancing at their captors, Sam followed suit and stopped talking. 

They went in through a back delivery entrance.  The walk down to the basement seemed to take forever.  When they finally made it down the stairs, the sight of the seal pierced through the numb haze around Sam's brain.  "Do you really think we're gonna die?" he whispered. 

Giles remained silent. 

The Bringers pushed them into a surprisingly dusty corner; Sam looked down, and realized he was sitting on nothing more than packed dirt.  Getting comfortable, he watched some Bringers prepare the seal - cleaning it, anointing it with something.  He toed the dirt, pretending to be bored in order to not give in to the paralyzing fear that was threatening to overtake him.  A flash of dark hair made him look to the shadows.  "Mandy?" 

"Had to get in on this," she said as she sauntered up to him.  "Man, you always knew just how to get into trouble, didn't you?" 

Sam frowned, confused.  "Look - you've gotta help us out.  There's supposed to be this goat, and-" 

"You just don't get it, do you?" she asked.  "Vampire equals evil.  Sort of like sleeping with a hooker equals bad for the administration." 

Noting Sam's confusion, Giles asked, "You didn't know she'd died?" 

"I did," he said.  "I even knew she - Mandy, if you wanted me dead, why didn't you just leave me to that other vampire?" 

She shrugged.  "Chalk it up to my inner Democrat trying to break free.  Listen.  You know I always go with the winner, right?" 

Sam's eyes turned hard.  "The Mandy I knew always went with the one who was right." 

"Then you didn't know Mandy."  She turned and left. 

Sam stared after her, a mixture of bewilderment, frustration, and disappointment on his face.  "Dammit." 

"What?" 

"She-"  Sam thought back to the conversation he'd had with Mandy in the hotel room only a day ago.  She'd played him the same way everyone else played him; from day one, he'd been too naive and trusting for politics, and life, and all points in between. 

Giles leaned forward to look at him.  "She what?" he asked softly. 

Sam clenched, and then unclenched his jaw.  "Played me for a complete fool.  But hey, that prophecy's all wrong - I won't live long enough to save any goats." 

Giles leaned back again, looking away.  "I'm truly sorry you were pulled into all of this.  They probably just wanted the book of prophecies.  You... "  He sighed.  "You were just pulled into all this accidentally." 

"Accidentally?"  Sam laughed without humor.  "Story of my life, man." 

[-----] 

Buffy stepped out into the arid land, the Doctor and Ace a step behind.  It all looked familiar - or as familiar as savannah could look.  Still, there was an air about it that made her skin tingle, and she was immediately on the alert. 

Something caught her eye.  "Oh.  You." 

Ace stepped forward, curious, but the Doctor held her back.  "Not yet, Ace." 

She leaned close to him and whispered, "But who are they?" 

He took in the sight of the three stoic men standing before them.  "Watchers," he replied.  "The originals, I presume.  Semjaza, is it?" 

Buffy turned and looked at him, confused.  "Originals?" 

"You presume correctly, Doctor," the first man said.  Though he was speaking in Sumerian, the others understood him perfectly.  "Though that is neither here nor there." 

"Semjaza?" Ace asked quietly, so Buffy could not hear. 

"Look it up in the Book of Enoch," he replied, equally as quiet. 

"Who are you?" Buffy asked. 

"I am as the Doctor says," the first man replied.  "And you are not finished." 

"I was done a year and a half ago," she said.  "I was done, I came back, and the First Evil decided to stop by because of me." 

"I don't think so," the Doctor said.  "You said you died before that." 

"Yeah," Buffy said absently.  "But the First tried to come by then too, and we stopped it." 

"The First has had many agents, over many years," the third man said.  "Your deaths and your life have influenced it only in the smallest ways." 

Buffy shook her head.  "If I stayed dead the last time, the First wouldn't have made this appearance.  We know that already, from the Eye of Beljoxa." 

"You're assuming the First only makes direct attacks," the first man said. 

"In other words, if you stayed dead, either time, the First could've won anyway," Ace said.  "How many baddies did you kill after you came back from the dead?  How many of 'em could've ended the world?  They're all part of the First, aren't they?" 

"Bright child," the first man commented. 

The Doctor grinned at Ace.  "I like to think so." 

Buffy looked at the ground, thoughtful and disappointed.  "So, you're saying there's nothing I can do," she said quietly.  "Even if I stayed dead, it'd still be coming after my friends." 

"We cannot offer you knowledge," the first man said.  "Only power." 

Buffy looked up at him, squaring her shoulders defiantly, remembering the violating smog that these men had "offered" her only a few weeks before.  "I don't want your power." 

"That power is no longer ours to give," he said.  He held out a sphere, glowing blue-green with some power unknown to Buffy, the Doctor, and Ace, and added, "This power is." 

Buffy stared at it, wary.  "What's it do?" 

"It will heal," the first man said.  "Apply it to the earth's wound, and it will provide a salve." 

Buffy took it and muttered, "I get the Watcher thing.  Completely unable to say stuff in ten small words or less." 

"Just think of it as a mystical elastoplast," the Doctor said, clapping her on the shoulder. 

Buffy glared at him.  "Or maybe it's just a British thing.  Elastoplast?" 

"It's this strip of rubber with glue on one side and a bit of cotton in the center," Ace said, outlining the shape in the air with her fingers.  "You put it over cuts and scrapes." 

Buffy peered at the glowing orb.  "They gave me a magic Band-Aid?"  She looked around to complain, but the three men were already gone.  "Um, thanks, I guess." 

The Doctor guided both girls back into the TARDIS.  "Come on, then.  You've got a planet's scraped knee to tend to." 

[-----] 

Aziraphale stopped flying when the school seemed the size of a Volkswagen.  The drop to the pavement hurt his knees, though he'd never tell, and he laid Crowley out on the sidewalk.  "Demon," he said, shaking his shoulders slightly.  "Wake up." 

Crowley groaned.  "Ow," he moaned.  "What hit me?"  He squinted at Aziraphale.  "And why are you speaking in the Aramaic all of a sudden?  The Rapture came and nobody told me?" 

"Soon, I won't be using any human tongues," the angel said.  "I'm starting to show." 

"Didn't know angels could get preggers." 

"Er.  No.  I'm starting to - look at me, Crowley." 

Crowley sat up, still dizzy, and looked him up and down.  The angel was strangely sporting armor over his khakis and button-down shirt; it was the same battle-scarred armor Crowley had last seen in the war.  Further, his eyes were still glowing white, and his face was set in an expression of simmering rage.  "Bless," Crowley muttered, half in fear.  "It really is the Rapture." 

"You were right about the hellmouth," Aziraphale said.  "It's why you're still here.  It's why I'm turning into this.  I want to scour this place clean." 

Crowley didn't quite believe that; had a quip ready to go, but he held his tongue.  Instead, he said, "Go.  I can get to the hellmouth on my own, I'll leave when I'm ready.  Look, I'm already feeling better."  The angel seemed to be hesitating at the thought of leaving him, and he added sarcastically, "I promise I won't try to end the world." 

His countenance shifted into one of anxiety for one moment as he said, "That's not what I'm worried about."  The angel stood, though, and shook his wings.  "Be safe."  He turned and walked away. 

"You're a real bastard," Crowley yelled after Aziraphale.  When he turned back around, as if to come back, Crowley immediately looked contrite.  "I mean - you be safe too." 

The angel disappeared around a street corner, and Crowley tried to stand up.  "Maybe not just yet," the demon muttered as the world spun in and out of focus around him.  Getting back on his hands and knees, he crawled towards the school.  "Holy water.  Boy, I don't know." 

The good people of Sunnydale ignored him as he crawled, and then limped towards the school.  Presumably, they were used to the sight of a charred and smoking demon with horns out in full, if kind of tiny, force, making his way to the local center of matriculation.  From the looks they were surreptitiously casting his way, he figured they thought he was the latest substitute science teacher. 

By the time he'd made it in the doors of Sunnydale High, most of the burns on his face, neck and chest had already healed, and he was clear-headed enough to question why he wasn't a little pile of dust in the Summers living room right now.  And though school was in session, he knew he wouldn't be able to just ask the students to answer that question for him. 

He also knew he couldn't just ask for the actual location of the hellmouth. 

Running his hands over his face, he set about looking for the thing, and tried to ignore the students he was passing in the halls.  Woozily, he stumbled down the hall, studiously avoiding the touch of other people.  Eventually, though, he felt his strength giving way, and he glanced about for an empty classroom where he could sit down and rest.  Being a public school, even one situated on an active hellmouth, all the classrooms were overcrowded. 

He yanked the door open to what he thought was a maintenance closet.  "Hullo," he muttered, looking at the dank staircase.  "What's all this?"  His strength was leaving him at a much slower pace now, and he smirked as he took a step onto the first stair.  "Home sweet home, I suppose." 

He headed down. 


	7. Prophecy Boy 7

**Prophecy Boy**

**by: Baked Goldfish**

**Character(s):** Sam, Leo, Mandy  
**Category(s):** Crossover/AU  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Disclaimer:** The West Wing is NBC's. Buffy The Vampire Slayer is Fox's. Doctor Who is, um, someone's, possibly the BBC's. Good Omens is Terry Pratchett's and Neil Gaiman's. None of this is mine, I'm not making any money on this, please don't sue me.  
**Summary:** Where is Mandy Hampton? A West Wing/Good Omens/Buffy/Dr. Who Crossover.  


* * *

Sam jolted out of a daze as he was yanked up by his shirt-collar.  The Bringer who'd pulled him up had a knife to his throat and was leading him to the seal that was sunken in the dirt.  On the way, he glowered at Mandy. 

Giles sat up straighter and said, "You have to realize, she's not-" 

"Not Mandy, she's just the creature that's using her body, I got you the first four times," Sam said.  He was pushed to his knees in the center of the seal.  "What happened to Leo kicking your ass?" 

"Leo doesn't know I'm not here," Mandy said with a shrug.  "Nobody here'll tell him.  Certainly not these guys," she added, waving her hand at the Bringers surrounding them.  "And you two are gonna be dead in a little while.  You're gonna open the seal, and he's gonna be lunch for whatever comes out." 

Sam craned his neck to look at Giles, mindful of the knifepoint scratching his Adam's Apple.  "Do all bad guys really give up their entire plans before carrying them out?" 

"It's been my experience, yes," Giles said, struggling against the Bringers who were holding him down. 

Sam didn't even try to get up as the Bringer with the knife came to stand in front of him.  His life honestly did flash before his eyes, and as he watched the knife cut his shirt open, he thought he really should have listened to Leo. 

There was a sudden bang, and it echoed through the chamber.  Then he was covered in red bits, some hard and some mushy, and the Bringer fell to the ground in front of him.  Rather, what was left of the Bringer fell; it took him a moment to realize the rest of the Bringer, mostly his head, was all over both his own body and the floor.  Bewildered, he looked around. 

Mandy was standing by another entrance to the chamber, holding a shotgun.  "Hey crapface," she yelled, getting another shell ready.  "Why don't you blow it out your ear?" 

Sam looked to what she was yelling at - another Mandy.  Actually, the Mandy who'd greeted them when he and Giles were first brought to the seal.  The shotgun went off again, and the shell went right through that Mandy. 

The new Mandy stared at the old one in shock.  "Did anyone else know that bitch wasn't even real?" 

"It's the First," Giles said.  "That is what we're up against." 

The old Mandy changed shape quickly, into someone Sam didn't recognize \- a woman, with dark, shoulder-length hair, dark eyes, and pale skin.  "Took you long enough, England," the First said in its new form.  Even in the darkness of the room, Sam could see Giles' reaction to the apparition; his face drained of color, and he almost seemed to shrink in on himself.  "Thought you'd figure it out a lot faster than that.  Getting slow in your old age?" 

Sam felt cold fingers on his bound hands, and he flinched before he realized it was just Mandy.  "What're you doing here?" 

"Leo'd kick my ass if I weren't," she muttered, untying him.  "Let's get you out of here, okay?  And you can go back to your cushy little White House job, and maybe finally get a real girlfriend." 

He looked around at the Bringers.  Half of them were already down, presumably taken out by Mandy, but the others were wrestling Giles to the seal.  "We gotta help him." 

Mandy stared at the scene before them before mumbling, "Fine.  Stay out of the way."  She ran back to the center of the room and tried to pull some Bringers off Giles. 

Sam backed up the stairs, feeling utterly helpless as she cut Giles' ropes and let him fight.  He tried to call up whatever magic he could, like he'd done in that hotel just last night, but he couldn't.  He took a step back to avoid being hit by Bringer-bits, and collided with something. 

Crowley stared down at him, brows furrowed.  "You okay?" 

"Yeah," Sam said.  "Peachy.  I think I'm covered in brains." 

"Probably," Crowley chirped before heading down into the fight. 

Sam saw another door open into the chamber.  In came Xander, Spike, and one of the girls from the house.  More Bringers seemed to be coming out of nowhere, and the First was gone.  He figured that must be a good sign, but he couldn't figure how the good guys were going to win this fight.  They were simply too outnumbered. 

Then, he heard a loud whump-whump whine coming from upstairs.  Turning, he saw Buffy, the Doctor, and his... student?  He saw them come down the stairs, Buffy holding something glowing in her hands.  The Bringers seemed to disperse upon her entrance, as if they were afraid of her or what she was holding.  He sat down heavily, thinking the fight to be over.  "And not a goat in sight," he mumbled, running his hand over his face. 

Suddenly, time stopped.  Literally.  Everyone, except Crowley, the Doctor, Ace, and himself, were frozen solid.  Sam looked up, frowned, and said, "Huh." 

"The hellmouth," the Doctor said.  "Speeding up and slowing down time, trying to find an equilibrium between the dimensions." 

"And we're not affected, why?" Sam asked. 

Ace looked at the people who were frozen, and the people who were not.  "We're not from here." 

"Neither's Mandy," Sam said. 

"But she's still linked to it," Crowley said.  "It's the one she lives closest to.  We're not affected, because we're all from areas with their own hellmouths.  I'm not sure how that ties in, but I'm sure it does." 

"I'm not - wait," Ace said.  "Perryvale.  Doctor, Perryvale might be another hellmouth, I think." 

"And DC," Sam said.  "Uh, does anyone know how to fix this, by the way?" 

The Doctor shook his head.  "The hellmouth must find its own equilibrium in its own time.  Then Buffy will be able to... well, to be honest, I have no idea what she has to do." 

"The goat, by the way," Crowley said, experimentally poking a frozen Spike's hair, "was Giles.  It's the etymology of his name." 

"But the prophecy said the goat's gonna bleed," Sam said. 

Crowley pointed to a scratch on Giles' forehead.  "He's bleeding.  Ever so slightly, but the prophecy was accurate in that." 

"Remind me not to get into a fight with that guy," Ace said, frowning at the snarl on Giles' face. 

Sam was about to agree when time started up again.  The others seemed to be as bewildered as those who weren't frozen, but only for a moment. 

It was a moment too long; the last few Bringers recovered faster than anyone else.  Sam heard the sickening slide of metal into flesh before he saw the blood.  The blood hit the seal, and it was strong enough to make one lock open.  Another few drops fell, and the other locks strained. 

For a second, Giles looked down at the wound in his stomach as if he needed to research it.  Then he said, "Oh dear," and collapsed. 

[-----] 

Buffy was the first one by Giles' side, dropping the orb as she dropped to her knees.  She was trying to put Giles in a more comfortable position while trying to stem the flow of blood, but it wasn't working. 

Sam took a step towards them, but was pushed back against the stairs by Xander.  "Don't you touch him," Xander said, his eyes burning with anger.  "What did you do?" 

"I got kidnapped," Sam spat back.  "I lost." 

"He didn't do anything," Buffy said.  She and Spike had moved Giles off the seal, and, though the locks were still struggling to open, they were temporarily safe.  Giles, however, was still losing blood.  "The prophecy said he saves something.  A goat.  We need to get Giles to a hospital." 

"Sam's supposed to save him," Crowley said.  "He's the... uh, well, he's the goat." 

"No, the cut on his forehead-"  Sam stared at Giles, utterly confused.  "I can't save him.  I'm - I'm a lawyer.  I write speeches.  I try to do the right thing, but I can't stop a guy from bleeding to death." 

Xander shoved him towards Giles.  "Well, you're not lawyering right now, you don't have paper and pen in hand, and tell me again how standing around doing nothing is the right thing?" 

"I can't-" 

"He's not going to make it to hospital," Crowley murmured.  "Just try, something's bound to happen.  Prophesied, and everything." 

Sam kneeled by Giles, opposite from Buffy.  He caught her eyes flickering up to look at him, and he swallowed and busied himself with putting pressure on the wound.  From the corner of his eye, he noticed the green orb in her hands.  "What's that?" 

Buffy shook her head.  "It's to heal the... "  She stopped talking, started thinking.  "They said it was to heal the earth, but \- they could be wrong, right?" 

"Worth a shot," he said with a flustered shrug, before taking the orb from her.  He stared at it for a moment, then stared at Giles; the older man had taken on a deathly pallor, and the blood coming from his wound was dark and sluggish.  Sam swallowed and rolled his shoulders back, trying to get ready for whatever might come.  He put the orb to the gash, and waited. 

Predictably, nothing happened. 

In frustration, Sam threw the orb.  "Dammit-" 

"Do something," Buffy growled. 

"Do what?" he snapped back.  "You're the one with superpowers, aren't you?" 

"If there's one thing I know about prophecies, it's that you can't get around them," she said.  "And that prophecy names you as the guy who saves my Watcher, so do something before I rip your lungs out and wear 'em as shoes." 

Sam watched as Giles' tried to breath.  This was four years ago, all the way across the country; he was useless, again.  There was blood on his hands and sweat in his eyes, and his mind had just gone completely blank.  "I can't," he choked out. 

"You have to," Buffy said.  He looked up at her, and as he felt the ground shaking beneath them, he could see the anger and fear warring in her eyes.  "He has to live.  I can't do this without him." 

Sam had no answer to that.  He looked down at Giles again, and said, "Heal."  It came out quieter than a whisper, and broken to boot, so he said again, "Heal."  He shook his head, pulled the cell phone out of his pocket, and dialed 911 with shaky fingers.  "Screw it.  Calling an ambulance'd save him just as well, right?" 

The ground stopped trembling.  Confused, the group looked around.  Sam spotted it first; the orb was no longer holding its shape.  It pooled out over the seal, spreading over it like a rolling fog, clamping it shut once more.  His phone couldn't get a signal out, but he didn't notice that as he clicked it shut.  "So that's how it goes." 

"We're wasting time," Xander muttered.  "Spike, help me get Giles outta here." 

"No," Sam said.  "No, help me-"  He grabbed Giles by the ankles and started to drag him onto the seal.  Buffy saw what he was doing, and picked Giles up to ease his way.  He was kneeling in the mist of blue-green energy, with Giles in front of him, completely covered.  Sam could feel the energy around him, skirting just outside his realm of control; he put his hands on Giles' wound and closed his eyes, concentrating.  "Now heal, dammit." 

He was channeling the energy away from the seal and into Giles, and he could feel it rushing through his veins, tingling just below his skin, as he acted as the conduit.  It was over suddenly, and he opened his eyes slowly, feeling dizzy.  He looked down at Giles. 

Giles frowned back up at him.  "Is there any particular reason why you're groping me?" 


	8. Prophecy Boy 8

**Prophecy Boy**

**by: Baked Goldfish**

**Character(s):** Sam, Leo, Mandy  
**Category(s):** Crossover/AU  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Disclaimer:** The West Wing is NBC's. Buffy The Vampire Slayer is Fox's. Doctor Who is, um, someone's, possibly the BBC's. Good Omens is Terry Pratchett's and Neil Gaiman's. None of this is mine, I'm not making any money on this, please don't sue me.  
**Summary:** Where is Mandy Hampton? A West Wing/Good Omens/Buffy/Dr. Who Crossover.  


* * *

Sam gulped down his third glass of water.  Apparently, serving as a conduit for strong healing magic made a guy thirsty.  He could hear Xander relating the whole story to a rapt audience of young girls out in the living room.  Crowley was in the kitchen with him, also drinking, though Sam wasn't quite sure where the demon had gotten the single-malt. 

"So you sticking around, then?" Crowley asked, toying with his glass.  "For whatever's coming?" 

Sam shrugged.  "Dunno.  I have a job back in D.C., so."  He shrugged again, and chuckled.  "You know, three days ago, my biggest problem was coming up with ways to avoid the Washington press on my return home?" 

Crowley looked outside at the setting sun.  "Three days ago, my biggest problem was placating a whining angel." 

"And it isn't anymore?" 

Crowley smirked, and shook his head.  "I was splashed with holy water today.  Don't tell those do-gooders out there, but I'm pure demon - it should've killed me." 

Sam frowned.  "I'm... sorry that it didn't?"  Off the demon's scowl, he added, "Could be the hellmouth, right?  Could've given you a little bit of a boost." 

"Possible," Crowley said, refilling his glass.  "But - you have to understand, 'hellmouth,' that's a misnomer.  It implies that this place is nothing but a draw for evil, which it isn't.  For every supposed hell dimension, there's a heaven dimension - ying and yang, and all that.  Everything has to balance out.  There are better dimensions than this, and they are all more easily accessible from a so-called hellmouth than from anywhere else." 

"Better?" 

"For instance," Crowley said, "there is the world without shrimp."  Sam looked dubious.  "Trust me," Crowley said. 

"Sure."  Sam looked down at his glass, and saw, to his joy, that it had scotch in it.  "So what happened to your friend?" 

"He, uh, well he spazzed out, basically," Crowley said.  "He's back in London, I'm guessing.  Away from all the evil influences here." 

Sam frowned, confused.  "You said everything balances out." 

"Yeah." 

"So wouldn't the evil influences be balanced out by the good?  How would the evil here make him do whatever he did?" 

Crowley opened his mouth to give a condescending answer, and found he had no such thing.  He frowned.  "Huh." 

Sam looked out the window at the darkened skies, thoughtful.  "Hey, lemme ask you something," Sam said, leaning forward a little bit.  "You notice anything weird about how time passes here?  I mean, it was noon maybe half an hour ago, and now it looks like it's eight at night." 

"Oh, yeah, that's the hellmouth," Crowley said.  "Confluence of dimensions, each traveling at their own speed, bound to screw things up.  You probably don't notice, but the hellmouth in D.C. makes time wonky there too." 

"I - huh?" 

"Exactly." 

Giles walked into the kitchen before Sam could ask anything else.  "Oh, Sam, there's a vampire outside waiting for you.  Buffy doesn't seem to want to kill her, so I thought-" 

"Mandy," he said.  "She's outside?" 

Giles frowned.  "That, that is what I just said, yes."  As Sam made to leave, he touched his arm.  "Are you sure you won't stay?  Your skills in magic are rough, but we could use you." 

Sam shook his head.  "I'd just get in the way.  Besides, I thought that green thing was supposed to seal up the hellmouth, right?" 

"It would have," Giles said, shoving his hands in his pocket and getting ready for a moment of exposition.  "But I think when you channeled some of it into me to heal me, it took away sufficient energy from the act of healing the earth.  If I had not been stabbed, or even if you had not healed me-" 

"If I hadn't healed you, we'd both be dead," Sam said.  "Buffy would've killed me.  Besides... I couldn't, you know.  Just let you die." 

"Yes, well."  Giles took a deep breath and said, "For what it's worth, I don't think you'd get in the way." 

"For what it's worth, I think you're wrong," Sam murmured with a small grin.  His grin turned into confusion.  "Besides, some of those girls are starting to look at me funny." 

Giles looked at him for a long moment before nodding.  "All right.  Then, I wish you the best of luck back in Washington." 

"Thanks.  And if you guys need anything for this-" 

"We haven't had the best experience with the U.S. government, so probably not," Giles interrupted.  "But thank you." 

Sam nodded and left.  Giles turned to Crowley and smiled. 

Crowley glanced around nervously, suddenly feeling ill at ease.  "I take it you wanted to talk to me?" 

[-----] 

"You don't want to eat me, do you?" 

Mandy scowled at Sam.  "Could've eaten you a thousand times over in the past three days, Samson.  Why would I eat you now when you probably taste like minty aftershave?" 

"Minty aftershave?" he asked. 

"Minty aftershave," she repeated.  "All that healing energy.  Can smell it on you, man."  She tapped the hood of the stolen car that had brought him to Sunnydale; obviously, she'd taken it from the hotel parking lot when he wasn't paying attention.  He peered into the backseat to see his new clothes packed into paper bags as she asked, "So where we headed?" 

He stood up faster than he should have, and the blood rushed from his head.  "We?  I'm going back to D.C.  You're gonna go do your vampire thing." 

For the shortest moment, Mandy almost looked hurt.  Then she smirked and said, "I want representation, man." 

Sam stared at her.  "You're kidding." 

"Nope," she said, sliding into the driver's seat.  "I'm a vampire.  I'm a demon.  I'm a born citizen of the United States of America, and I demand voting rights.  You know how many of us would kill for basic freedoms?" 

"I'm sure quite a few of you would kill for them, or for anything, really, but - Mandy, what is going on?" 

"Just what it looks like," she said, popping the passenger door open.  "I'm starting a new special interest group.  You know how many demons have been tortured and maimed by the U.S. Government in the name of science?  Most of us aren't into that whole 'end of the world' crap.  We just wanna live our lives." 

"And also murder, right?" Sam asked, glowering at her dubiously. 

"That's low, Sam," she said, starting the car.  "Come on.  If you don't want me coming along, at least let me take you to LAX - you can't be seen driving a stolen vehicle, after all." 

"What are you gonna do after?" he asked, getting into the car. 

She drove down Revello, turning onto the main road.  "Dunno.  Stay in L.A. probably.  Stick around here, maybe, see if they need any help." 

Sam leaned back as she ignored the speed laws and drove down the street.  Sunnydale sped by outside the window, and he pulled out his cell phone and dialed Leo's number.  It picked up after two rings.  "Leo?" 

"Sam, why are you still in Sunnydale?" 

"Is that our friendly neighborhood chief of staff?" Mandy asked.  "Lemme talk to him.  Haven't talked to Leo in ages."  She grabbed the cell phone from Sam. 

His eyes went wide as she started paying more attention to the phone than the road.  "Maybe I should talk to Leo, and you should drive-" 

"Leo, what's up?" Mandy said, perkier than Sam had ever heard her.  Sam could vaguely hear Leo screaming into the phone, and was pretty sure the guy's blood pressure was skyrocketing.  "No, he's safe and sound.  Promise.  Not even an itty-bitty taste." 

Sam scowled at her and snatched the phone back.  "Sorry, she took it from me." 

"What are you doing in a car with her?" Leo asked, obviously angry.  "Do you know how dangerous it is-" 

"I'm pretty sure I know how dangerous it is," Sam interrupted.  "I just went through - well, I'm fine now.  So." 

Leo sighed.  "Yeah.  Look, just get back here." 

Sam smirked as he saw an opening.  "Do I sense worry in your voice?" 

"No." 

"I do, don't I?"  He grinned.  The grin faded as he saw the "Now Leaving Sunnydale" sign.  "Leo, these guys really need help out here." 

"They know how to handle that stuff way better than we do," Leo said.  "So come back here and handle what you handle best." 

"You don't have to convince me, I'm coming back," Sam said.  There was a hesitation in his voice, though. 

"And why do I not believe that?" Leo asked, deadpan.  "And why do I think you don't believe it either?" 

Mandy pulled over to the side of the road, and Sam looked at her in alarm.  He frowned.  "Listen, Leo, can I talk to you later?  I think Mandy's about to eat me." 

"Nah, I'm just turning the engine off," she said.  "Wanna be able to hear Leo better." 

"Mandy, be quiet," Leo groused over the phone.  "Sam, just - be careful, okay?  If you're not coming back, stick with Mandy." 

"I'm coming back-"  He stopped talking when he realized Leo had hung up on him.  "Okay." 

Mandy started the car up again.  "Los Angeles International, here we come." 

Sam looked at her; his frown deepened, and he buckled his seat belt. 

[-----] 

Giles handed Crowley the book.  "Tell your friend thanks." 

Crowley looked down at the book of prophecies.  "You don't need it anymore?" 

"Read it on the plane over," Giles said.  "I... think it might be safer back home." 

"Maybe," Crowley said, flipping through it.  "I know - I get that you all need help.  But I want you to know, I can't help you with this." 

Giles looked confused at the demon's bluntness, but had to admit there was also some disappointment there.  "Might I ask why not?" he asked, as calmly as he could. 

Crowley looked him straight in the eye and said, "I'm evil.  I like this place - Earth, I mean - but I've already done more good than I'm supposed to." 

"You didn't really help at all," Giles said. 

"Yeah, but I didn't hurt, either."  Crowley closed the book carefully and stuck his hand out.  "Best of luck, though.  Hope you all get this done.  If you don't... well, I'll put in a good word for you." 

Giles took his hand and shook it.  "Will that actually do anything good?" 

"Probably not."  He tucked the book under his arm and headed out.  His car was still parked by the fire hydrant down the street a little ways, and as he made his way up the sidewalk, he muttered, "What I do for you, angel." 

"Quit whining," the Doctor brayed behind him.  "I'll give you a ride in the TARDIS, and you can leave the car in front of a fire hydrant." 

"I can't leave a car in front of the-"  He stopped short.  Crowley looked at the rental.  He could leave a car in front of the fire hydrant; in fact, he really should, seeing as how he was evil.  When he turned back to the Doctor, the time lord was smirking and leaning on his umbrella. 

"Issues, Anthony?" the Doctor asked, opening the gate to let Crowley into the Summers' back yard. 

"Is Aziraphale in there?" 

"He is not," the Doctor said, unlocking the TARDIS door.  "I took him back to London already.  I was barely able to get him out.  He wanted to come back to make sure you were all right." 

"Well, he needed to get out of this hellmouth," Crowley said.  "It was influencing him, taking him back to his baser elements." 

They stepped inside to see Ace by the control console and a slightly embarrassed Aziraphale sitting cross-legged against the wall behind her.  "He snuck back in," Ace said with a shrug. 

"Er.  Hello, Crowley." 

[-----] 

"Giles, you wanted to talk to me?" 

Giles nodded and lead Buffy out of the crowded living room and up to her bedroom.  He closed the door and sat her down on her bed.  "The Doctor told me what you tried to do." 

She tried to look innocent.  "What I tried to do... at the seal?  'Cause, gotta say, I think that turned out pretty good." 

"Buffy, he told me that you tried to go back in time to make yourself stay dead," he said.  "Why?" 

She ducked her head to steel herself, and then looked him right in the eyes.  "The oracle.  The Eye of Beljoxa said-" 

"Something which could be taken in a myriad of ways," he said gently.  "I'm sorry, Buffy, I shouldn't have told you-" 

"No, it's good you did," she said, shaking her head.  "I mean, even if I drew way wrong conclusions.  I - we won't be able to fight the First if we don't learn how to share." 

He smiled and sat down beside her.  "True."  His smile faded, and he said, "If we're sharing, I have to tell you that I'm worried about Spike." 

"Worried?" 

He took off his glasses and cleaned them.  "Um, he's still defenseless against the First's trigger, yes?" 

Buffy nodded.  "Yeah, but he hasn't been, well, triggered in a long while." 

"Still."  He put his glasses back on.  There was something strange in Buffy's fiercely defensive tone of voice, but he couldn't pinpoint it, nor did he want to try.  "There is something I'd like to try.  I'd have to leave for a few days to get the supplies, but I believe we can - we can help him." 

She smiled up at him and leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, "I know how much you hate saying that." 

"Quite."  He stood and said, "I'd best be getting back.  Will you be all right tonight?" 

"I should be asking you that," she said.  "You sure you're all healed up in there?" 

"I am," he said with a flash of a grin.  There was still something about her mood making him uneasy, but he was too tired.  "Um, I'll see you tomorrow, Buffy." 

"Later, Giles." 

[-----] 

"Too bad the Doctor didn't want to join us," Aziraphale said, sipping his drink. 

"Probably because he still hates me," Crowley said.  He motioned the waiter over and placed an order for a steak. 

"Of course he still hates you, the last time he saw you, you broke his TARDIS, and he's only just fixed the old thing," Aziraphale said.  "And I'd love a salad, if you're wondering." 

"I wasn't," Crowley said.  "You feeling any better, by the way?" 

Aziraphale sighed and stared down into his empty cup.  "I suppose.  Sorry for acting all out of sorts back there."  He looked up at Crowley.  "And you?" 

"Much better, thanks," he said.  They fell into a not-quite-comfortable silence. 

The salad and steak appeared, and Aziraphale said, "Do you know, it's interesting how the evil around the hellmouth-" 

"It wasn't the hellmouth that screwed with us and you know it," Crowley muttered, sawing at his steak.  "I'm getting a dose of do-gooder, and you... well, you care about a demon at least as much as you care about the sanctity of heaven, judging by how quickly you reverted after I started having second thoughts about your silly little plan.  Which I'm sure is against somebody's rules somewhere." 

Aziraphale frowned at him, his eyes worried.  "I was thinking the same thing.  Er.  We're not telling anyone, right?" 

"Bloody well right, we're not."  He bit into his steak with determined force. 

[-----] 

Giles left the Summers house, and shoved his hands in his pockets; it was colder now, and though it was still fairly comfortable by his standards, it was colder than he could ever remember it being in Sunnydale.  He was barely three houses down when he heard his name being called.  He looked back.  "Buffy?" 

"Your legs are too long," she groused, half-running up to him. 

"Sorry," he apologized, confused.  "Is something the matter?" 

She looked contrite.  "I kinda forgot to tell you something." 

He turned to face her fully.  "What is it?  And - did you change your shirt?" 

"The other one was kinda covered in Bringer bits," she said.  "Anyway.  I figured, since I said we should share, I should share this with you." 

Giles waited a moment for her to start speaking again, but she seemed to be lost in herself.  "Share what?  Buffy, I'm not sure I-" 

"Last spring, the night before Tara died, Spike tried to rape me," she said, looking at a point somewhere on his chest. 

Giles stared at her, trying to parse what she'd just said.  That familiar feeling of protectiveness grew in him, turning his vision black around the edges, turning his blood cold.  He once again wanted to kick himself for not being there for her, for leaving before he should have.  "I'll kill him." 

"Don't." 

He walked past her, heading towards the house.  "I'll stake him.  I'll string him up on a bloody cross, spray him with holy water, set him on fire-" 

"Giles, don't," she said from behind him. 

"Buffy, he-"  He turned to face her, and saw the look on her face.  "Fine," he said coolly.  "I suppose he's 'different' now." 

"He is," she said vehemently, taking a step towards him.  "And I might need him later.  Please don't go after him." 

At her tone, he pushed his anger down.  Nodding, he said, "All right.  I won't.  But if he ever tries anything-"  She nodded.  He smiled a tiny bit, and reached out to squeeze her shoulder. 

His hand passed right through her. 

The First grinned up at him, still in Buffy's form.  "Please don't go after him," she repeated, her voice mockingly pleading.  "I might need him." 

"Go away," he muttered, walking through her on his way to the hotel. 

"I will," the First said.  "Just remember, I never lie." 

He stopped walking and glanced over his shoulder.  "Yes.  And?" 

"And that means I was telling the truth about Spike," the First said before disappearing. 

Giles stared for a long moment at the spot where the First had been. 

[-----] 

Mandy pulled into the airport garage.  At five in the morning, it was full but relatively quiet.  "Here we are.  Ready to go home?" 

Sam unbuckled his seatbelt and unlocked the back door.  "Sure."  On the drive, he had been acutely aware of time skipping back and forth; instead of three hours, it had been more like seven or eight, and he had had a lot of time to think things over. 

Ever since the energy at the seal had gone through him, he felt like he could see things much clearer than before.  Not just time, but also all the magic in the air, all the different species that passed by around them.  It wasn't an overwhelming feeling, it wasn't a feeling that would debilitate, but it was buzzing under his skin.  It was fading, but the memory was burned into him by now, always on the periphery of his mind. 

Once, when he was maybe ten, eleven years old, his father had taken him on a ship.  They'd gone out so far that he couldn't see the coast anymore, and he'd thought at that time that the world was pretty big. 

The world, in fact, was huge.  Bigger than he could have imagined at eleven years, and bigger than he'd known one week ago.  "Oh lord, have mercy," he muttered, "thy sea is so large, and my ship is so small." 

"Sam?" Mandy asked.  "You going?  Sun's gonna be up in a little while, and I need to find a place to sleep." 

He looked at her and smiled tightly.  "How about the backseat?" 

"Sam?" 

"I saw some duct tape back there, we can cover the windows, you can sleep back there," he said.  "I'll drive." 

"You sure about this?" she asked, though he could see a glimmer of a smile curling the corners of her mouth. 

"Not at all," he said.  "Let's do it." 

They made short order of duct-taping the windows and rear windshield, and Sam strung a jacket over the backs of the front seats so light couldn't hit her from the front.  She curled up on the seat, and was asleep in moments.  He pulled out of the garage. 

When he made it out of L.A., the sun was just coming up to his right.  The roads were mostly clear, and he rolled down his window to let in some fresh, cool air.  With no schedules, no prophecies to tell him, he had absolutely no idea what came next. 

He drove north, and grinned. 

-end- 


End file.
